Every Rose Has Its Thorn
by FallingDomino
Summary: The Colt didn't work and Cas can't find God - the Winchesters are running low on options. That is until Cas shows up with a new proposal to the brothers. A rumor spreads through heaven of a girl, born to an angel and demon, is one who can permanently put Lucifer back into Hell. But will she be able to save everyone? Will she even be able to save herself? DeanxOCxCastiel, Season 5
1. Newest Hope

**(Disclaimer: I do not own the show Supernatural or any of its characters. I only make claims to my OC.)  
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**Just to warn you, this story will contain a lot of smut since I don't like to hold back on my writing when things get hot and heavy. The plot isn't based around sex, it's just a little add in. If you don't like it, I recommend skipping the chapters in question or leaving the story permanently.**

** Stay crazy.**

ONE: Newest Hope

Dean leaned against the hood of his beloved Impala, eyes scanning the deserted motel parking lot with uncertainty. The pavement shined with the remnants of the previous rainfall and left off a dewy glare. He was placed in the orange beam of the streetlight positioned directly over him. At first, he assumed this would make it easier to be found, but then felt unnecessarily unprotected.

"Think he's coming?" Sam asked edgily, looking equally as dubious as his brother.

"Cas ever let us down before?" said Dean, shifting his hands into his coat pockets and fondling with his car keys nervously. He watched the red neon motel sign flicker ominously, the 'o' in the word already completely burnt out.

"You sure you gave him the right address?" Dean asked, shifting a glance over at his younger brother who stood beside him with his hands buried in his jean pockets.

"Blackgate Motel, Minnesota," confirmed Sam, meeting his brother's eye and gave a small shrug. "Maybe he got held up."

"I can't imagine how an angel could be held up," remarked Dean. "Usually it's all '_poof' _and you're somewhere in milliseconds. What, do they have angel traffic now? Besides, he's the one who had something oh-so-dire to talk about."

"He said it's something that could help us," said Sam. "Maybe something that could help us kill Lucifer."

Dean recalled the recent failure the Colt had performed against the devil. It had resulted in the deaths of Jo and Ellen Harvelle, who had sacrificed themselves to allow Dean and Sam to reach Lucifer. And for what? Nothing. Unfortunately for them, the knowledge that one of the five creations the Colt could not kill was the devil himself remained unknown to either of them.

Dean's stomach tied in a ensnarement of angry gnarls every time he thought of the subject. It hadn't happened more than two weeks ago and yet the sight of Ellen holding her dying daughter was still planted firmly in his brain like an incurable poison.

"Well, being late is a great way to start it off," Dean said bitterly.

"The patience humans have is always something I could never comprehend."

Dean and Sam started, looking in unison to their right for the sound of the familiar, hoarse voice. Castiel, dressed in his usual attire that consisted of the tan trench coat and neatly pressed suit underneath, strode toward the Winchester brothers with the same brooding expression he typically wore. He stopped three feet away, eyes combing Dean and Sam's face with a look of slight determination.

"Cas," said Dean with his eyebrows furrowing slightly. "Please tell me there's a good reason we waited twenty minutes in a dingy parking lot when I could have been buying dinner and beer." Even at his words, his stomach released a small growl.

Castiel's dark blue eyes flickered monetarily across Dean's stomach before looking between the brothers.

"You need to drive to Cannon Rock, Indiana as fast as those car's wheels can drive you," he said huskily.

Sam frowned and Dean stared at the angel with a transfixed expression.

"Care to elaborate?" Dean said.

"There is someone there. A girl. You need to find her."

The brothers exchanged looks.

"Back this up a little," said Dean. "We need a little bit more info than 'a girl'. Are we talkin' girl with cute pigtails who watches Disney movies, or girl as in woman?"

"As if that has anything of import," said Castiel in the same low tone.

"Then what does? Will she be able to help us stop Lucifer? Who is she?" asked Sam.

"And if she's so important to find, why couldn't you just zap yourself there and save us the trouble?" asked Dean, placing his hands on his waist and frowning at Cas.

"I can't. None of the angels can. She bears the same written inscription on her ribs as the two of you. I do believe she can help us destroy the devil, however."

There was a short pause. Dean was completely taken aback. If anything, he was expecting Cas to come with him with news of the the apocalypse hitting another town and that they had to charge to the rescue. However, he was not about to turn down something that could help them.

"How were you able to find her if she has those markings?" asked Sam.

Castiel looked as though his patience was running slightly thin. It wasn't every day that the angel lost his temper or stepped out of his generally cool demeanor.

"Though I am cut off completely from heaven, I still hears words. Rumors. We are not the only ones hunting this girl down. Demons have been tracking her down for the majority of her life, which is why the angels had carved those markings on her."

"So they want to protect her?" asked Dean. "Why?"

"For the same reason you should set out to find her now instead of wasting time talking to me."

"I don't get it," Dean said. "We're supposed to believe this girl is the key to stopping the apocalypse? After everything we've sacrificed, after all the lives that have been lost? What makes her so special?"

"It hasn't come to my knowledge until recently that this girl _is _the key. The theory has been researched high and low from heaven. To be frank, I'm not even sure now if it's true. But what other options do we have at this point?"

Dean reasoned with the truth in his words. After everything that's happened, driving down a few hours to Indiana to find a girl who may be the answer to stopping the devil suddenly seemed so simple compared to everything else he had done. Yet something was still pressing on the back of his mind.

"What makes her so special?" he repeated. "What girl could be powerful enough to stop the apocalypse?"

Cas wavered for a moment, gaze overlooking the brothers, giving Dean the impression that he could see something that they couldn't. He eventually looked back at them and his expression was more set than before.

"The girl was born to an angel father, and a demon mother," he said coarsely. "A halfbreed. More commonly known as Nephilim."

Dean would have taken a step backward if he were not already leaning against his car. He did however stand up straighter, brows knitting together and staring at the angel before him.

"Whoa, hang on," said he said. "You're telling me this girl is the . . . offspring of angel and demon? What angel would sleep with a demon?"

"'As the dark sun rises, a daughter of Lucifer who beholds terrible beauty rises to corrupt the being of one so pure and light,'" Castiel said morbidly. "I know only what is written. There are only three things that are said to destroy Lucifer; Michael, Nephilim, and God himself."

"So this means she's the alternative to saying yes to Michael and Lucifer," said Sam with a small, disbelieving laugh.

"Hopefully. But the angels do not want you to find her. Neither do the demons. As we believe she could help us defeat the devil, they believe she can destroy Michael."

"So we just need to get to her first," said Dean placidly. "Alright. Sign me up. How will we know who to search for?"

Castiel met his eyes edgily, breathing out a small sigh that escaped his lips as a white mist.

"'The daughter of good and evil shall be named by the darker side of the flower. Resting upon her bosom there shall lay a necklace of the cold-blooded.' There is next to nothing on information about her, apart from small amount I had gathered before all this began."

Dean arched an eyebrow.

"If she's so important in the heaven realm, why does there seem to be basically nothing about her?" asked Sam.

"Beside riddles. Getting a bit sick of your mamby pamby angel mystery bogus," said Dean irritably.

"It was not my job to look over her, as it was for other angels," said Castiel with a crack of irritation in his voice. "I only know what I have heard before. Find the girl and convince her to side with us. It's our next best option to destroying Lucifer."

"Should be a real kick," said Dean, then raising his voice to an airy, joking tone."Hello, ma'am. I don't think we've properly met but you're the daughter of an angel and demon and possibly one of the three things that can kill Satan and end the apocalypse. Care to team up?"

Castiel set a stony gaze upon him.

"Believe me, you do not want to see what happens if she lands in the hands of demons."

* * *

**New Supernatural fic. Hope you guys like. This idea just kinda came hurtling out of the blue and I decided to write it down kind of as a side story to work on when I'm not writing on my other OC Supernatural fic. And yeah, I know. This looks like it just has 'Mary Sue' planted all over it but I promise you that I have no intention of creating one, so I hope you give it a chance.**

**Well! If it's not too much trouble, I would absolutely adore you if you took the time to write a little review of what you think so far :) next chapter should be out soon.**


	2. The Halfbreed

TWO: The Halfbreed  


Dean rubbed his tired eyes, trying to focus his gaze onto the road set ahead of him and keep his eyelids from drooping. He checked his cell clock. Twelve fifty-nine. Splendid. He had spent the last seven hours doing nothing but driving on an empty stomach.

Sam was propped up against the window, snoring softly so that his breath came out as a mist on the glass. Dean glanced up at the green sign that they had just passed and nudged his brother. He had been looking for an excuse to wake him up for awhile.

"Dude, Cannon Rock—five miles," said Dean as Sam lifted his head, blinking sleepily and glancing around.

"H-how do we know where to—to l-look?" said Sam, trying and failing to stifle a yawn.

"Cas said it's not that big of a town. But we're sure as hell not lookin' tonight," said Dean tiredly. "We're gonna find the nearest motel and set our search tomorrow."

Sam sat up straighter in the leather seat, running his hands over his face and massaging the bridge of his nose.

"Well, we don't have much to go on besides that shes' 'named of the darker side of a flower' and 'has a cold-blooded amulet on her bosom'." He snorted into his fingers, lowering them to look at the road as Dean took the next exit. "Got any ideas on what that could mean?"

"Look for a girl that has a lizard for a necklace?" suggested Dean. "Hell, do we even know if _she _knows about everything? Demons and such?"

"Cas didn't know. He didn't have much information on her. I mean, I would assume so if her mother was a demon and her father was an angel."

"Yeah, well I'm tired of walking into things blindly all the time," Dean muttered.

There was a short pause. Dean heard Sam take a small intake of breath, as if he were about to laugh.

"Dean, I mean . . . this could be the answer we were looking for all this time. This could end everything if she can defeat Lucifer."

"Yeah. If," said Dean.

Sam glanced at him.

"Why so morbid? I'd think you'd be excited after all the crap we've been through. This could be _it. _I mean, hell, you should be elated."

Dean frowned at the road for a few moments before answering.

"I dunno. I feel like it's one rat race after another. Find the Colt, lose a few friends who sacrifice their lives for us to kill Lucifer. Ends up that it doesn't work. Find _God _when there's nothing to go on. Over and over again we find solutions only to just have 'em bashed out in front of us."

A callous silence followed his words and Dean could feel Sam's stare on him.

"We have to have hope," said Sam eventually. "We have to believe that there's something out there that can stop Lucifer without people dying. Who knows? Maybe this girl, whoever she is, really can help us."

"Yeah, well, I sure as hell hope so," said Dean. "Here's a place."

He pulled into the parking lot of a building labeled 'Bar and Bed', parking into one of the closer spots and turning off the car. He let out a low breath, determined to rent a room as soon as possible and pass out. He and Sam clambered out of the Impala, the gravel crunching beneath their shoes as they made their way to the establishment.

"Trying to get a description of her is going to be tough," said Sam.

"Asking her to join up might be even tougher if she doesn't know about this angel/demon crap."

"Well, just as long—"

However, Sam wasn't able to finish his sentence because there was suddenly a loud _crash, _causing both of the brothers to start and stare at the building. The noise had come from inside, sounding like broken glass. The brothers looked at each other then with frightening unison, ran at full speed into the open door.

The front of the building was a dimly lit bar and restaurant with only a minimal amount of patrons. However, the brothers' attention wasn't focused on the décor or the customers, but by the man who had evidently just been thrown onto the bar counter. Standing beside this man was a young woman, expression set icily on her prey. The crash was probably due to the dishes that were recently placed upon the counter but now lay in pieces on the wooden floor.

"You . . . you bitch," he muttered, rolling off the counter and clutching his head and side. "I'll teach you to respect a man!"

Before Dean and Sam could react, the man hurtled his way toward the woman. Dean was prepared to pounce upon him but was surprised when the girl had caught the man's fist and wrenched it backward, bending his arm the wrong way so he was suddenly bent down on his knees and howling.

"Thanks to guys like _you, _I haven't had any respect for men since I was seventeen," the girl said placidly, threatening to bend his arm backward further. As the man grunted in pain again, she released him and he fell to the floor, face flat and cradling his arm to his chest.

"Better get out of here, Tim, 'fore I decide to call the police," said the bartender who remarkably didn't seem to care at all that this woman had just pounded this guy into oblivion. The man shifted up to his feet, casting a fiery glare upon the young female before slouching past the brothers. Dean watched him leave with furrowed brows, then turned to look at the woman who's gaze was on him and Sam.

"This happen a lot?" asked Sam of the bartender, but it was the woman who answered, stepping over the broken glass to look at the brothers closer.

"Tim doesn't know how to keep his hands to himself. Thinks that woman are the weaker sex and that he can get away with it. Happens every so often around here." She spoke so openly, so matter-of-factly that Dean was completely taken aback by her.

Her eyes switched from the pair of them, eyeing them steadily.

"So—you must be Sam and Dean, right?"

Dean and Sam exchanged sudden looks.

"You know us?" Dean asked, walking in closer to her so as not to be overheard.

"No. I know _of _you. Most people do these days. I also know that you're here for me."

Dean's eyes widened slightly past their frame, his brows furrowing ever more as he looked over at his brother who looked just as bemused as he. Despite the situation and the obvious initial surprise he felt, he couldn't help but feel slightly amused. Anyone who could get away with kicking ass was an asset in his book.

"C'mon. We can talk at one of the back tables," she said, nodding her head towards the back of the bar. She smiled slightly. "I'll buy you a beer. My name's Thorn, by the way."

Yet again, the brothers looked at each other, this time with dawning comprehension. Dean knew the same words were running along his brother's brain as it was in his; _The daughter of good and evil shall be named by the darker side of the flower._

Also, Dean was pretty sure he saw the glimmer of a silver necklace in the shape of a dragon before she turned her back on them.

.

"So, how did you know we were coming?" inquired Sam once all three of them were seated in the booth in the dark corner of the bar. The atmosphere had settled down since Tim left and it seemed that it wasn't the first time he had been kicked out.

Dean sat back in the red leather booth, clutching his beer in his hand and watching the girl steadily.

She was not beautiful, but she was not ugly. Her dirty blonde hair hung in tousled strands all the way down to her lower ribs. It was not silky or exactly well kept or conditioned, yet the messy look almost seemed to fit her.

Her face was clean of makeup, revealing the flaws on her skin, such as the dark circles that hung under her eyes. Eyes that were a curious dark brown with flecks of gold in them. She had a pointed jawline that did well with her lips that always seemed to remain in a permanent pout.

She was no _Victoria's Secret _model, but Dean had definitely seen worse. Yet she wasn't exactly how Dean imagined the destroyer of Satan to look like.

"I can talk to angels," she said simply. "Well, moreover hear angels. I listen every now and then but I don't think they know."

"You know about angels?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrows. "How?"

She raised her eyes to look at him, fondling her beer bottle slightly between her fingers.

"I've heard 'em as long as I can remember," she stated, leaning back in her seat and crossing her legs upon the table surface. Dean eyed the boots she wore that had mud planted on the sole of them, then looked back at her again.

"Believe me it probably would've been better if I kept my mouth shut. My mom and dad certainly didn't like it when I was five and confessed to them that I heard voices. It wasn't normal voices, though. They weren't telling me to do anything. It was like listening to a radio, or a conversation. Eventually, I knew they were angels because they would always be talking about 'God's plan' or something about demons. Believe it or not, boys, but I've known about you two since I was eight years old. They never shut up about you up there."

Dean opened his mouth, temporarily dumbstruck by this little slab of information. But Sam beat him.

"Your mom and dad," he said slowly. "They were . . . human?"

Thorn's gaze wavered onto Sam for a brief moment, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly. Dean could tell they had just entered sensitive territory.

"Well, those ones were," she said, sitting up straighter and letting her legs fall back onto the ground. She leaned forward onto the table, playing with the beer cap on the table's surface. She seemed glad she had intrigued the brothers' curiosity. "But they weren't my real parents. I may have been born to them, but somehow I always knew."

Dean was suddenly caught back by the memory of Anna. She had also been linked in with angel talk, but that was only because she was an angel. If this woman was both angel and demon, could she possibly hear the other side, too?

"Why do you think you can hear angels?" Dean asked her. She looked at him, a wry smile on her lips.

"Helluva I know," she said. "I thought it always had something to do with the fact that demons have been on my tail since my birth. Apparently, the night I was born my family's farmhouse burst into flames. Then after that the owner of the motel we stayed at tried to murder my family. As I recall, he was described to have black eyes. The police passed it off as drugs."

"So demons have always been hunting you?" Sam inquired, leaning in closer and curiosity held heavy in his voice. Dean glanced from his brother to Thorn, frowning slightly.

"Yep," she said, taking a sip of her beer.

"If you were a baby, how the hell were you able to get away?" Dean asked.

She considered, looking thoughtfully up at the ceiling before meeting Dean's eyes.

"I like to think that I have a guardian angel," she said with a small smile. "If we were lucky, we had an attack five times a year yet we were always able to get away somehow. But the escapes were getting slippery and I was getting smarter. By the time I was seventeen I set out on the road, leaving those people I called my parents and carried my own weight."

"Don't you ever wonder how you could have possibly survived on your own for so long?" asked Dean shiftily.

"Well, I learned a few tricks along the way. And like I said; there may have been a little intervening from the heaven realm. But, enough about me," she added suddenly, shifting her mysterious gaze between the brothers. "I know you're here looking for me. I know you're here for some big, world wide reason. And my only guess is that it has something to do with Lucifer."

"You know about him, too?" Dean inquired.

Her gaze hardened slightly.

"The day that Sam released Lucifer from hell—"(Sam shifted guiltily) "There was so much talk from the angels and de—well, let's just say that I _literally _couldn't hear my own thoughts. I couldn't leave my motel room for the entire day because I thought I was going insane. Billions ans billions of voices all at once shouting in my head about the escape of Satan. It wasn't something I missed easily."

She looked at Sam, who had preoccupied himself with staring into his beer bottle. Dean turned his focus again upon Thorn.

"Yeah, you're right. We do need you because of Lucifer," he said outwardly. She looked at him, expression unreadable. Dean confirmed to himself that her stare was slightly unnerving, much like being X-Rayed. She didn't seem to blink as normally as other humans and could sit still for so long that she could pass as a statue.

"Thorn, we know _why _you can hear angels, and why demons have been after you for so long," said Sam leisurely, vacating his gaze from his beer and looking instead at her.

"Well, pretty boy. I'm all ears," she said smoothly. "I've been trying to hear that from them for so long but it's not like I can talk to them or choose what they say to me. If you have the answer, I'm ready to listen."

Dean and Sam shifted another glance towards each other, mentally asking who should be the one to break the news. They took it in turns, explaining why her 'birth' parents wouldn't feel like her real parents and how they knew Castiel and that he told them about her. About her bloodline, about what she was.

Thorn listened with her hand resting on her chin and looking at the center of the table. It was impossible to tell what kind of effect their words had on her and Dean wondered vaguely if she was even going to believe them.

He wondered how _he _would react if two men walked into your life and told you that you were the offspring of angel and demon. He would probably hit the closest one with a right hooked punch.

"What you are, is called Nephilim," said Sam tenderly. "It's probably the reason where most of your strength comes from and how you've been able to survive for so long."

Thorn shifted in her seat slightly, arms falling silently to her sides as she looked at the pair of them through her eyelashes.

"Nephilim," she repeated quietly. She gave out a short, dry laugh and rubbed her eyes, releasing a little sigh. "I knew there was bound to be a reason as to why I could hear them—I just didn't really imagine this."

"You've had no experiences that were slightly out of the ordinary?" asked Dean, lifting one of his eyebrows.

She frowned slightly, mouth opening and looking as though she was thinking hard.

"No," she said with a small shrug, looking back up at him. "I guess I've always been a bit—strong. But besides that and hearing angels, I've never noticed anything before. No feathery wings, devil's tail, or halo above my head, anyway."

Dean chuckled dryly.

"Well, listen, sweetheart. There's a catch."

She arched an eyebrow at him.

"I thought the Nephilim part was the catch?"

He scratched his chin and released a small breath.

"I wish. The reason we came to find you is because out of the three things that are able to kill the Devil—Nephilim is one of them."

A thick pause followed Dean's words and he could feel Sam shift beside him, yet he didn't regret being so outward. The girl needed to know why they were there with no holding back. He wasn't going to lie and if she was going to make this difficult he wanted to know now.

Frighteningly enough, her expression didn't change. He watched her with a frown as her gaze was set upon his. It disturbed him of how hard she was to read, of how her eyes seemed to be some sort of screen to her feelings. He almost felt as if he were being held down or captivated. Like her stare was turning him up and over, examining him, studying him. He couldn't recall a time he felt more uncomfortable.

Then she blinked and the sensation was gone.

"You want me to help you bring down Lucifer?" she asked.

"A save mankind," Sam added.

Again, she sat back in her seat, resting her hand on her forehead and staring intently at the pair of them.

"Well, shit."

* * *

**Hiya! Glad you've continued to read my story! Means the world to me!**

**Well, I hope you like the plot and I hope you like Thorn! As you can probably tell, the way things are going it's bound to change the entire story arc of the series. **

**If it isn't too much trouble, I would really appreciate it if you wrote down a little review in that comment box below telling me what you think :) it would mean so much to me!**


	3. Late Night Swim

THREE: Late Night Swim  


As Dean placed the key in the lock for room 204, he couldn't help but acknowledge a nagging feeling that was practically weighing on his shoulders. As the brothers stepped into the room that smelled of fresh pine, Sam noticed Dean's disturbance.

"Dean?"

"Mm," he grunted in response, falling back onto one of the queen beds, crossing his arms behind his head and closing his eyes.

"You've been awfully quiet this entire night."

"Tired," he said, proving his statement by adding a yawn.

"You shouldn't be," said Sam, seating himself down on the bed opposite Dean and pulling his laptop from his bag. "Seems to me like our prayers have been answered."

"In a night," muttered Dean, running his fingers over his face.

"You're upset that it happened too quickly?" asked Sam incredulously.

"I'm suspicious it happened too quickly," answered Dean.

"You think Thorn's a phony?"

"Man, I don't know!" said Dean irritably, sitting upright and massaging his temples. "Y'know, usually it's just a wild goose chase to find somethin'. It doesn't just fall into our lap. I don't know," he said again. "Guess I'm just used to everything going wrong that once it goes right it's damn near impossible to believe."

His eyes met his brother's and he heaved a sigh.

"Whatever. Look, I'm going to go grab a soda from the vending machine. You want anything?"

"No, I'm good," Sam replied.

Dean got to his feet, cracked his neck, then exited the motel room. The establishment was eerily quiet this time of night and Dean's footsteps upon the floor were distinctly loud. He slouched down the stairs, ignoring the itchiness in his eyes and walked up to the _Coco-Cola _machine that was placed on the other side of the building.

He dug his hand in his jean pocket, but found nothing but a few pieces of lint. He checked in the other pocket and this time brought out three quarters, two nickels, and two dimes. Inserting them into the machine, he pushed the 'coke' button and waited impatiently.

Nothing happened. Dean frowned, pressing the button again, but it appeared to be jammed. He clicked the change return button but that proved to have little more effect.

"Ah, c'mon," he hissed, repeatedly jabbing the coke button and cursing under his breath. "All I want is a damn soda after a long ass night. Do I have to pray to God for that, too?"

_Bang, bang._

Dean started, looking to his left to a figure he had not noticed until now. The corners of Thorn's lips twitched as she saw his expression. She had thumped the machine twice on the side, landing a coke in the small slot below. Dean raised an eyebrow at her.

"Nope. Only me," she said.

Dean scanned her uncertainly, glancing at the coke before bending down and retrieving it.

"You know your way around here," he noted.

"I've been here awhile," she said, smiling slightly up at him as she leaned her head against the machine with her arms folded slightly. "But I could never believe that the infamous Dean Winchester has been outwitted by an ol' trashy motel vending machine. I mean, from what I heard I'd think you know your way around these things after practically _living _in ol' trashy motels."

Dean opened his can of soda and took a hesitant sip before answering.

"You've really known about us since you were eight?" he inquired, genuinely curious.

She got a strange twinkle in her eye and she glanced toward the sky above, then met his eyes again with the same smile.

"Really, really."

There was a slight pause in which Dean took another sip, leaning against the wall, soon to be joined by her.

"You know, you don't really strike me as the destroyer of Satan," he said placidly, glancing at her sideways with a slight smile.

She snorted.

"What, were you expecting a comic con replica of Xena?" she said, making Dean chuckle.

"Yeah, I dunno. Something like that."

"Well, what do I seem like to you then?" she said smoothly, her voice lowering as she looked up at Dean through her brown eyelashes.

There it was again. That stare. The stare that made him feel like she was seeing right through him, examining his every aspect. He dared himself to chance a glance at her and found she was still looking at him. He found it hard to look back, but also discovered he didn't want to look away.

"Honestly, you don't really strike me as anything," he said finally.

"That an insult or compliment?" she asked.

He smiled to himself.

"You're just interesting."

She straightened herself slightly so that she stood taller. She was not that short, around 5'6, so she got a clear look of him. Shaking her hair behind her shoulder, the minxy smile grew on her face that Dean was already growing familiar to.

"Well, interesting is a start," she said.

Dean was aware of the small distance between them as well as the gaze she held him with. Dean was not generally uncomfortable around women; quite the contrary. But he was still uncertain about this new girl's affect on him. Whether or not he liked it remains to be seen.

Her eyes traced the outline of his lips before meeting his eyes again with a small grin. Dean looked down at her, brows furrowing slightly. He studied the wide brown eyes, the locks of disheveled blonde hair, and the pink, pouting lips.

Materializing from nowhere, out of nothing—Dean wanted to kiss those lips. The impulse was so sudden, so bizarre that he wouldn't be surprised if his astonishment showed on his face. He was conflicted with himself, wondering why he indulge himself in something so quickly with a Nephilim girl he met hours ago.

Dean found her roughly attractive, but he had a feeling something about her mannerism and personality intervened with how he perceived her physically. Or maybe it was the wide, unblinking gaze that made her appearance so disturbing to him.

Either way, he found that given the entire situation, these sudden thoughts he was having were extraordinarily trivial.

"I can see through you, Winchester," she said softly and Dean blinked, confused at abruptly being taken away from his thoughts. "I think I know you better than you do. I've had many years of listening in into the angel realm to learn all about you."

That part still disturbed Dean. Considering he knew the angels have always watched over him and his brother under large surveillance, he was sure there wasn't a lot Thorn would miss. It was almost more intrusive than her stare.

He turned to say something to her, but she suddenly jumped aside and starting trotting to the other end of the corridor. Dean straightened up, still holding his coke can as he looked at her curiously. She placed her hand on the corner of the building, shot him a devilish grin over her shoulder, than pranced out of sight.

Dean stood there for a few moments. She obviously wanted him to follow, and really, who was he to refuse? He stepped forward, glancing around the corner for any sight of her. She was waiting for him at the entrance of the black iron gate that led to the pool. As soon as she saw that his eyes found her, she climbed over the fence, emitting a small giggle.

Dean couldn't help smiling to himself now as he walked up to the gate. It was locked. Well, no wonder. It was nearly three in the morning. For the life of him, he couldn't understand how she had obtained so much energy.

Dean couldn't make out much in the darkness but he could hear Thorn's footsteps and the movement of something, perhaps water. A few seconds later, the pool lights were on, lighting up the clear blue water of the chlorinated pool.

Thorn stood at the foot of the pool, her back to Dean and facing the water. She casted him yet another smile over her shoulder before looking away again. Then what she did next was enough to make Dean's eyes widen slightly and almost lose grip of his soda.

Thorn began to lift her simple black T-shirt over her head and toss it to the ground. She pulled her jeans down by her ankles and threw that as well. She stood in merely her underwear that was close to the color of her skin, her hair falling down her back and shoulders.

Dean opened his mouth to say something, _anything, _but there was suddenly a loud _splash _and his words were drowned out. He stared in astonishment as Thorn's head resurfaced, giggling at the look on his face.

"Are you fuckin' crazy?" he demanded, not sure whether to laugh or not. "It's the middle of October!"

"Temperature's just a trick of the mind, Mr. Winchester," she said, swimming to the side and placing her hand along the edge and looking up at him. "You should join me."

"Yeah, thanks. I prefer to stay on the sane side of the fence," he uttered but he was sure that she heard him.

Her expression shifted slightly, but she didn't look angry.

"When I was little, they told me I was crazy. For hearing voices I mean," she said slowly. "Put me on drugs. Tried to keep me docile. It worked, for a good part of my childhood." She kicked off from the wall, swimming out into the center of the pool but still looking at him.

He returned his stare on her floating there, head bobbing above the water's surface and watching him and intently.

"And then?" he asked.

"I discovered willpower."

Not taking a breath, she dove under and remained there for a good twenty seconds before resurfacing again. He leaned back against the fence, glancing up at the starlit sky and let out a sigh through his nose. He tried to imagine what it would be like to be in a completely normal family and confess that you could hear people talking to you from heaven. Of course, the word 'normal' was something Dean had always and forever will be alien to.

"You're one interesting girl," he mumbled, scratching the end of his nose.

"Let's take a step up from interesting, yeah?"

Dean nearly jumped out of his shoes at the sudden closeness of her voice and whirled around. She was standing at the gate with her soaked hair, now a light brown due to its wetness, clinging to her back. With her hair slicked back, she revealed she had a heart-shaped face which was split in a smile.

Her fingers curled around the iron gate and she tilted her head slightly.

"How in the shitting hell did you get here so fast?" he demanded.

"Same as anyone does," she said. "I walked, putting one foot in front of the other using the muscles in my legs."

He was now registering why talking to her slightly unnerved him. She sounded—well, she sounded a little crazy. Though he supposed anyone might if they had been listening to angels in their head for their entire life.

Putting that all aside, she was definitely like no girl he had ever talked to before. Though admittedly, he never really did a lot of 'talking' with girls.

"Please turn around," she said.

"Why?" chuckled Dean, who couldn't imagine why she would be feeling self conscious _now._

"Because my underwear is silk."

Oh.

Dean forced his gaze down to the ground while Thorn walked back to the edge of the pool and put her clothing back on. A moment later, the pool lights flickered off and Dean heard her place the mat back over the water. He was of half a mind to help her over the fence, but she already clambered over it and was beside him once more. He could make out her smile in the darkness.

"You know what is funny, Dean?" she asked him, but didn't wait for him to answer. "I only know of what the angels have said about you, and what I heard I thought I was really going to like you. I really assumed you'd be a fun person to be around, you know?"

Dean wondered where she was going with this and moreover whether she was insulting him or not

"And?" he pressed.

She looked at him, this time unsmiling.

"And I was right," she said.

Dean returned her stare only to find those doe-eyes piercing through him again. Somehow it wasn't as unenjoyable as previously, and he didn't have a clue as to why.

"Well, you know everything about me," he said with the merest trace of playfulness. "And yet I've barely had any insight on what you're like."

However, Thorn had barely opened her mouth to answer when there was suddenly someone emerging from around the corner and making both of their heads look up. It was Sam, his eyes scanning the darkness and landing on the two standing there.

"I came because it doesn't take _this _long to get a soda," said Sam as he approached them, glancing at Thorn and studying her sodden hair. "Why are you wet?"

"I was with Dean. Of course I'm wet," she said and Dean nearly spit out his next sip of coke, causing both of them to look at him.

"Late night swimming," he assured his brother whose eyebrows had risen practically to his hairline.

"It's October," said Sam uncertainly, looking between the two again.

"That's what _I_ said."

Thorn began wringing out her hair so that a few droplets of water fell onto the concrete, then shook it like a dog. She raised her head to smile at the brothers nonchalantly.

"I think I'll turn in for tonight, but let's talk game plans tomorrow," she said, shifting her smile then upon Dean where her eyelids lowered slightly. "Good night, Dean."

She walked off, trotting up the motel steps without a second glance towards them. Dean's gaze followed her with a small grin before he noticed his brother staring at him with a incredulous look.

"Dude, no," said Sam exasperatedly.

"What?" said Dean innocently.

"You know what. You are not hooking up with the destroyer of Satan."

"Whoa, whoa. Calm down, sugar tits. I only met the girl like two hours ago."

"Yeah, but that's like two weeks in 'Dean time'."

"Hey, not my fault. She's the one leading _me _on."

"And you're the one who's choosing to follow. Seriously, man. This is a chance that is almost _literally _sent down from heaven, answering all of our questions. We can't afford to screw this up because you're using your downstairs brain."

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother's choice of words but understood the partial truth in them. He nodded once.

"Whatever, man. I just need to sleep," he said, about to to walk off, but Sam stopped him.

"Hey, whoa. Promise me that you won't go after our only hope in saving the world?"

"I'm not _that _conceited," said Dean, frowning at his brother. "Yeah, yeah. I understand. This piece of ass will be getting no slice of Angel-Devil food cake."

Sam relaxed a little but he still didn't look overall reassured.

"Good," he said.

* * *

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**Stay crazy.**


	4. Loveless

FOUR: Loveless

Thorn had awoken to the sound of songbirds chirping just outside her motel window. It was almost comical and 'Disneyish'. Her eyelids fluttered open and her gaze rested upon the open window, a breeze kicking in and making the white flimsy curtains waver like ghosts. The gentle wind brushed up against Thorn's cheeks and she sighed peacefully, sitting upright and stretching her arms skyward, making small noises that she would describe as 'baby dino calls.'

She scooted herself from underneath the sheets, brushing her tousled hair behind her shoulder and walking up to the window. She couldn't imagine a less likely day for songbirds to be singing. The sky was coated in a morose, dense spread of gray clouds where a slight sprinkle was already emitting. She didn't mind, though. This was her favorite weather opposed to sunny and bright. It made her feel safe, concealed—hidden. That was something Thorn had had do her entire life.

The wind howled angrily and eventually made its way through the window where it hit Thorn square in the face. She closed her eyes, hummed softly in time with the wind, then opened them to look at the parking lot.

Her gaze lingered on Sam who was reaching into the passenger side of the Impala and reaching for something. As if sensing someone's stare on him, his eyes scanned upward and found Thorn watching him from the window. He looked a little surprised but smiled and gave a small wave. Thorn returned it and Sam pointed towards the other end of the motel where the bar and diner sat, and Thorn nodded.

She turned her back on the window and bent down to collect her jeans and her white button down shirt that were both sprawled on the floor. The shirt had belonged to a man from a few month's back so it was a little big on her. She wished she could have remembered the man's name for she recalled he was nice, had an Australian accent, and had the most wonderful brown eyes.

She ignored any attempt of vanity in the bathroom mirror and simply let her hair fall in the mess it always was. Not that she didn't care of how she looked; she simply thought that the disheveled look fit her best.

She exited the room, trotting down the stairs two at a time and making her way towards the diner. Sam and Dean were already waiting for her at the table seated by the large window. Dean was pawning over a large breakfast burrito whilst Sam's eyes scanned up and down a newspaper that lay flat in front of him. They looked up as she approached and she offered them a small smile as she pulled up a chair from one of the other tables.

"Good morning," she said.

"Morneng," said Dean through a mouthful of food. Thorn's amused gaze wavered on him momentarily before glancing at Sam.

"Morning," said Sam, slightly dismissively.

The waiter came to take Thorn's order where she promptly asked for what Dean was having along with a large mug of coffee. She caught hold of the white napkin placed in front of her and began absentmindedly folding it, feeling the brothers' stare comb over her.

_'. . . Winchesters last seen in Minnesota . . .'_

_'Think Castiel is still with them?'_

_'You don't rebel from the laws of heaven only to abandon those you rebelled for.'_

_'Do you wonder if they know of the Nephilim?'_

That was a question that was most often asked in the Heaven realm. The angels always wondering if Dean and Sam had found Thorn yet, or quite possibly the demons.

She closed her eyes, rising the imaginary walls that proved to have some protection from the angels' talk. She looked back up at the boys with a nonchalant smile, leaning her chin on her elbow.

"Can I confess something?" she asked suddenly.

The brothers exchanged a look.

"Confess away," said Dean after giving an enormous swallow of food.

"I knew I was Nephilim. For a very long time I've known."

Dean and Sam fixed her with a confused look.

"Then why'd you say otherwise?" inquired Dean.

"I didn't know you."

"Yeah, I call bullshit," snickered Dean. "You've known us since you were eight."

"I've heard about you since I was eight. My definition of knowing someone is sitting face to face and exchanging conversation, getting a feel for their vibe. Nowadays many of the angels are fuming about you, expressing how idiotic and cowardly you are, but I both like and trust you. I think that the angels are wrong on many levels."

"I thought it would be a little weird if you were a hot topic up there and not once hearing them say you were Nephilim," said Sam thoughtfully.

Dean casted his gaze from Sam back onto Thorn.

"Another question," she said as the waiter arrived with her order. "Who is Castiel?"

At first, the brothers looked a little surprised at the mention of the name, but then seemed to remember her little insight.

"Upstairs kind of guy," explained Dean.

"An angel?" Thorn asked in surprise as she added generous tablespoons of sugar to her coffee. Dean frowned slightly at her mug.

"The one who told us where to find you," added Sam.

"I can't imagine."

"He's the rebelling kind," said Dean. "Turned away from Heaven because he thinks it smells a little fishy up there."

"And thought you two were more reliable?" she asked. She realized that her tone sounded a little too skeptic and hastened to correct herself. "It's just—with angels it almost seems to be all work and no play. Their beliefs are nearly unbendable. I just don't see how you managed to convince an 'angel of the Lord' to see things your way."

"Took 'im a while, I'll admit," said Dean, chewing on his cheek and sitting back in his seat, arms crossed. "But I can vouch for him. Cas is a good dude."

"Speaking of which, we should probably contact him soon and tell him we found you," said Sam.

Thorn shifted a little uncomfortably in her seat which did not go unnoticed by either of the two.

"What, you're afraid of seeing an angel? I'd have thought that after so long of hearing them it'd be no biggie?" questioned Dean. Thorn looked at him.

"Maybe, maybe not. I've never actually met one before. Like I said; I only know of what I hear but I don't like to pass judgment unless I can see it with my own eyes."

There was a small pause as Thorn continued to add liberal amounts of cane sugar to her drink.

"You want some coffee with that sugar?" Dean asked.

"What I don't understand is," said Sam, ignoring his brother and looking at Thorn intently. "Why they would go through so much trouble for us to say yes to Michael and Lucifer, when they've had you at their fingertips. I mean, you're the one is supposedly able to stop the Devil. Why bother with us?"

Sam seemed to be counting on the idea that possibly Thorn had heard something from Heaven, but in this case, it was a no go.

"I don't hear what I want to hear up there," she said. "It's not like a radio I can tune to the channel of my choice. I hear only occasionally what they're talking about. Don't get me wrong; I've heard high and low of their plans for you but surprisingly enough they don't talk a lot about me—not their plans for _me_, anyway. Maybe I missed something, I don't know. I've spent a lot of time trying to learn to block it all out. It gives me a killer headache."

There was a short pause in which Sam looked thoughtfully down at the newspaper in front of him and Dean eyed Thorn gradually.

"Don't think there's much we can do until we get Cas over here, so why don't we soothe into a lighter topic?" suggested Dean.

Sam and Thorn glanced at him.

"Such as?" Sam said, lifting an eyebrow.

"Such as what can Thorn tell us about herself? If we're gonna be kickin' some demon ass side by side I want to at least know a little bit about you."

The smile on Dean's face was a little too flirty. Sam seemed to think so too because he was eying his brother with a warning look, to which Dean promptly ignored.

Thorn straightened in her seat, returning Dean's smile only mildly.

"I'm game," she played back. "What do you want to know?"

"I dunno," Dean replied unhelpfully. He gave a small shrug. "Where you're from, habits, traits, likes, dislikes, hobbies, your taste in guys—_ow!"_

Evidently Sam had stomped down on his brother's foot because he was delivering a innocent smile to Thorn and Dean winced in sudden pain, edging a glare towards Sam.

Thorn shrugged.

"Grew up in Western Missouri with my human parents and little brother. Stayed there 'till I was seventeen because the demon attacks were becoming too much on all of us. I like a lot of things. Such as apple tarts, rainy days, candy, hot coco, roller coasters and skinny dipping."

She paused to enjoy the effect her words had on the brothers—or more specifically Dean. She watched his eyes momentarily flicker over her body and knew he was envisioning her swimming in a lake, naked. She held back a chuckle.

"I don't have a taste in guys and I don't have any hobbies. My good traits are that I can be resourceful, I'm not useless, I'm pretty good in a battle, and I play a fair game of poker."

Her words earned another little smile from Dean, and an eye roll from Sam who kept on glancing at his brother.

"My bad traits are that I'm kinda impulsive, a little mistrusting, and I can't love."

The last part caught the boys particularly off guard. They both frowned, watching Thorn smile at them slightly. She wondered if they knew it was a sad smile, one that made her insides ache. She didn't bother to add that she was also good at hiding things—preferably her feelings.

"Love as in . . . ?" Dean persisted.

"It's what it sounds like," she said slowly, leaning back in her chair slightly and watching him intently. She saw him stiffen slightly under her stare but was relentless with it. "I can never love. Family love, boyfriend love, friend love—whatever the definition of the word is, I can't do it."

A silence followed her words but she didn't regret being so open about it. She took a small sip from her coffee, satisfied by the sweet tang on her taste buds.

"Did I answer your question?" she asked.

Dean raised his eyebrows as if to say 'well, whatever you say' and glanced out the window.

"All of that aside," said Sam, breaking another silence and Thorn glanced at him. "We need to know if you're completely in on this with us. That you'll help us take down Lucifer."

"Are you kidding?" Thorn said with a small laugh. "And save mankind? I said I was loveless, not heartless. 'Sides, I've been doing nothing but sitting on my ass for eight years. Think I have anything better to do?"

Sam seemed to be taken slightly off guard by her eager acceptance, but seemed relieved.

"Great," said Dean flatly. "Now we just need to work away around _how _that's going to happen."

"I suppose stabbing him wouldn't work, would it?" Thorn suggested half-heartedly.

Sam smiled slightly.

"Well, that's not generally how it would go. At least, I don't think so," said Sam.

"Nah. For something like this you usually have to undergo some all powerful ritual, sacrifice a baby doe, dance naked under the full moon, or something along those lines," said Dean, raising his eyebrows slightly with a smile at Thorn. "These days everyone is so damn picky of how to kill someone."

"I can't imagine why," said Sam sardonically.

"For the record, I'd be down for dancing naked under the moon," said Thorn, her lips tugging upward into a mischievous grin, locking her gaze with Dean as she played with the spoon in her drink. Dean looked back at her with a lopsided smile, his olive green eyes flickering with something Thorn was yet to place her finger on.

Sam eyed Thorn for a single moment, and unlike Dean, she was able to place exactly his emotion of exasperation in his eyes.

She was being a bit impulsive, she knew. But it was in Thorn's nature to look for a good time. And if she wasn't mistaken, she was sure Dean was reading along the same lines as her; he obviously wasn't looking for anything long term and in Thorn's book, that was a plus.

"In the meantime," said Sam with a defiant tone that ended the conversation. "I'm going to call up Cas and get him over here. He might know what to do from here."

Sam scooted himself away from the table, shooting a warning glance towards his brother as he placed his cell to his ear and walked out of the restaurant.

Thorn brushed a stray hair behind her ear, leaning forward to take hold of the massive breakfast burrito into her hands. She strained to fit her mouth around it, but it was absolutely delicious. She was enjoying herself until a bit of green chili dribbled down her chin and let out a small squeak, cupping a hand beneath the burrito and towering over the plate so none would get on the floor.

Dean laughed his ass off.

* * *

**Hiya! Hope you're enjoying the story so far. I know I'm enjoying writing it** **:D want to thank those who have left their amazing reviews on the previous chapters. Next chapter I'll bring back Castiel and you'll get to see his first interactions with Thorn ^-^ what do you think is going to happen?**

**Anyway, if it's not too much trouble, I'd be forever grateful if you left a review telling me what you think! Reading them makes me so happy and they're incredibly motivational :3  
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**Thanks for reading!**


	5. Words of Angels

**Phew. Hope I still have some of you guys with me. I apologize for the delay, but I've been focusing solely on my other Supernatural fic(which don't be afraid to check out)and haven't had much time for this one.**

**Enjoy!**

FIVE: Words of Angels  


"I'm thinkin' we start looking into possible locations Lucifer could be hiding," said Dean as Thorn and him exited the restaurant.

Thorn let out a little incredulous chuckle.

"Whoa, let's not forget who's supposed to be facing him. I'd rather figure out _how _I'm supposed to kill the devil before hurrying to find him."

"Fair point," Dean shrugged. "With any luck Cas'll know what to do."

"This Castiel," said Thorn slowly as they reached the motel pavement and under the roof, saved from the starting up rain from above. "You said he rebelled from heaven?"

Dean buried his hands deep in his jean pockets, shifting a side glance to Thorn who was staring out at the nearly-empty parking lot with folded arms.

"Think he's crazy?" asked Dean with a small smile.

The corners of Thorn's lips twitched slightly.

"I think you guys must be really somethin' if an angel went against heaven to help you," she answered, turning to offer a small grin. "That's not a small deal. I hear what happens to angels who go against 'upstairs laws', so to speak."

"They go to the upstairs jail," sighed Dean. After a beat: "Don't think we're gonna be hangin' around here for much longer. Might want to get your stuff together so we can hit the road."

"Hey, I get to ride in that Impala and I'll go wherever you want," smiled Thorn as she turned to trot up the wooden stairs to her room.

Upon entering, a breeze cascaded from the open window where the white curtains were flickering ghost-like a few feet from the ground. She walked up to it, shutting it firmly and letting out a shivering sigh. She hugged herself for a few moments, staring up at the dense clouds and watching in the distance as a flash of white light flickered across them.

She turned to grab her bag on the dresser, but didn't get to take one step before she noticed someone was standing in the room with her. She froze momentarily, feeling her heart fail for a millisecond. It was a man, tall in frame, black disheveled hair, and thick brows that furrowed over dark blue eyes. His attire was tan trenchcoat over a neatly pressed business suit.

His expression was curious, and not at all disturbed by the fact that he had appeared out of thin air and disturbed Thorn's privacy.

She meant to open her mouth and demand who the fuck he was and how he got in here, but as her lips parted to speak, he took a step forward with his head cocked to the side like a curious dog. Thorn would've taken a step back if she hadn't spent so much time in the past learning to stand her ground.

The look in the man's face—his eyes sparkled with awe as if Thorn was a discovery he wasn't expecting to find.

Without thinking twice, Thorn gripped the bedside lamp and brought it down upon the stranger's head. It shattered into over a dozen pieces over the carpet, but Thorn was more concerned by the fact that the man was overall completely unaffected by the action.

He merely blinked once, brows continuing to narrow. Thorn raised her eyebrows.

The crash seemed to attracted the attention of Dean who opened the door quickly and peered inside. His eyes first registered the stranger and then Thorn who was standing there, utterly perplexed. His gaze then landed on the shattered remnants of the lamp.

"I see you two met," said Dean, a single brow lifting.

"Met?" Thorn repeated, releasing a small chuckle. She looked back at the man who was still eying her strangely. It suddenly sunk in, and she felt idiotic for only realizing it now. "The angel. Castiel. Has he heard of knocking?"

Dean gave a small shrug.

"Still learnin'. He's getting the basics, bit by bit. What happened?"

"I hit him with a lamp."

Dean frowned.

"Poor lamp."

"She is indeed the Nephilim in question," said Castiel in a hoarse voice, finally turning away from Thorn to face the opposite wall. Thorn frowned at his back.

"Thank you," she said stiffly with an uncertain look at Dean. He glanced between the two, looking as if he was in personal conflict on whether trying to explain things or not. Obviously deciding on the contrary, he spoke to Castiel.

"Why didn't you come to Sam and me first? I think we could have avoided harming any innocent night stand accessories that way."

Castiel glanced at Dean, then back at Thorn over his shoulder.

"I needed to be positive that the woman you found wasn't a fake, or a demon foiling you."

"And how exactly _do _you know?" Thorn asked.

_Because I can sense the link between you and the angel realm, _said Castiel's voice in her head.

Thorn took a few mental steps backward. The voice wasn't exactly how his physical one sounded; she could almost feel it scratching against the walls of her skull, and the tone was much different than the one in front of her. More powerful, raw—almost painfully so.

"Why do you sound so much different in my head?" she asked tentatively.

As he turned to face her, Dean's face was fixed with a quizzical expression.

"Because the voice you hear now is merely the one of this vessel. The one you hear in your head is my true vocalism," said Castiel.

"You can hear him?" Dean asked slowly. "Cas, I thought they cut off you from heaven? Why haven't you contacted Thorn earlier?"

"Because I have had no need to converse with her until now and I can strike conversation when I know where she is. It could come in use to us in the nearing future."

There was a small pause. Thorn was slightly disconcerted. She had never met an angel before, no matter how long she had heard their voices in her head. This informal introduction was unexpected and a little disappointing.

"Sorry about the—the, uh, lamp," she said stiffly, placing the tips of her fingers in her jean pockets. Castiel's blue eyes met hers. The sensation was similar to that of being hit in the head with a pillow of bricks. Thorn was almost taken completely off guard by his intense gaze which still held that flickering wonder.

"It won't be long before I have to genuinely fear for my safety around you," Castiel said and Thorn frowned.

"Meaning?" Dean questioned.

Castiel's intense glare wavered momentarily upon the Winchester.

"Presently, Thorn is not much more than a mere human who has no chance of demolishing the devil. Her situation isn't so much different than Anna's, though it is not Thorn's grace that she has lost. It's her flame."

"My flame?" echoed Thorn but regretted doing so because the angel made eye-contact again.

"The thing that makes you Nephilim," Castiel continued and he took a few steps closer to her. Thorn stiffened slightly, looking up him with narrowed brows. "I imagine you must have lost it when you landed on earth."

Thorn and Dean exchanged a quick look.

"Landed on earth," Thorn repeated slowly, tightening her arms nervously against her chest. "Look, honey. I'm twenty-six years old and I was born in a town called Horton in Western Missouri to Earnest and Savannah Holmes. I may have had a fucked up childhood when it came to running from demons, but I don't remember falling from anywhere."

Castiel looked temporarily confused when Thorn referred to him as 'honey' but evidently overlooked it. He walked up close and personal to Thorn so that he towered over her. She resisted from shrinking down, and wondered vaguely if the angel knew anything of personal space.

"Do you really believe that you can only be twenty-six years of age or that the humans who birthed you are your true parents?" he asked huskily. "The interpretation I have conceived is that your memory has been erased many years ago. The bod you possess now," he added, glancing down at it. "Is as much yours as the one I am in."

There was a terrifying silence. Thorn's heart performed an unsteady rhythm of beats against her chest and she felt lightheaded. She stared up at the angel.

"You're certainly not scared of speaking the truth," she murmured, wiping her fingers on her mouth and swallowing. "How can this not be my body? How can all of my childhood memories be fake?"

Castiel eyed her speculatively.

"They aren't. Your true form would have possessed that body when it was born, you just have no memory of it."

Thorn's eyes grew wide. Dean's expression mirrored hers, and attempted to meet Thorn's gaze, but her attention was focused entirely upon the angel before her.

"I'm—using—someone's—body," she said slowly. "There's someone in here . . . with me?"

"The owner of that vessel," Castiel nodded.

Thorn felt dirty, contaminated. She had been stealing away he life of a child for twenty-six years without having nay inclination. She had stolen someone's entire _life. How _had this even happened!? She had known about being Nephilim, she had suspected that the parents she grew up with were not truly hers, but she never knew that she was sharing the body with another soul.

"How do I give it back?" Thorn demanded and Castiel's eyes turned steely.

"You don't," he said, frowning as if her question was incredulous. "The child in question is—still a child. It has been sleeping in the vessel for twenty-six years. If you were to hand the body back over, it would be an infant stuck in a young woman's body. How do you assume that would play out? Even if you were able to give the body back to the parents do you have any idea how many questions would be raised, where the child would end up? It would live the life of a variation and not be a proper adult until it is fifty-two. At least in this regard its body is able to serve some purpose."

There was another sticky pause. Thorn's entire body was immobile. She realized she had been digging her nails into her forearm and retracted to reveal the markings of tiny crescent moons along her skin.

It was Dean who broke the ice. "Pushing this entire freaky Friday crap," said Dean and Thorn looked at him. "I thought someone couldn't take control of a vessel unless that vessel gives the thumbs up? I'm gonna go on a limb here and guess a baby just being born isn't exactly capable of speech."

"You're forgetting that Thorn isn't only an angel. Demons can take control of bodies without their word. Whether you were taking control of the infant out of your own will remains to be seen," Castiel added to Thorn who was staring out of the window.

Dimly, she could feel Dean's stare on her and wondered what he could be thinking. Did he perhaps assume her to be revolting for doing such a thing? She didn't think so. She hadn't known him for that long but he didn't give her that impression. Yet not matter how he was feeling, nothing could match Thorn's emotions.

She was disgusted with herself, even if she knew she did nothing intentionally. Her feelings weren't easily bent but this information was enough for her to take an entire new viewpoint on herself.

It was quiet up until the door opened again and Sam entered. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped abruptly when he noticed the ambiance of the room. His eyes found Castiel.

"What's going on here?" he asked slowly.

Dean let out a low breath, digging his hands in his jacket pockets and looking at his brother.

"Thorn's learnin' a little bit about herself," he said dryly. She was glad he spoke; she didn't think she was capable of speech at the moment.

"We can recite everything at a later date," said Castiel sternly, finally turning his back on Thorn and turning to face the brothers. "We have the answer to Satan's downfall and we need to discuss plans."

.

"The flame will be in no ordinary area," Castiel said, leaning forward in the car seat with his hands together in his lap. Castiel and Thorn resided in the backseat of the Impala while Sam and Dean took the front. The rain had increased over the few minutes they had been traveling on the road and Dean was slightly hunched over the steering wheel, squinting his eyes to see past the furious windshield wipers.

"So, you're basically a fallen angel?" Sam asked of Thorn who sat herself further into the leather exterior, closing her eyes briefly. She didn't like the idea of being placed upon a pedestal nor being the 'last hope' of saving the world.

"A fallen Nephilim," corrected Castiel and Thorn casted a small glower towards him. She couldn't explain it but ever since meeting him in the motel room she had grown a small irritation for the angel. Maybe it was because he spoke of her as if she was some sort of object to be used at their disposal, and anything she had to say was unimportant.

She didn't complain because she couldn't back out of these plans. She couldn't let her growing annoyance for Castiel interfere with the saving of mankind.

She leaned forward in the seat, legs crossed and looking at Castiel's right cheek as to avoid making direct eye-contact.

"So where do you think this—my 'flame' would be?" she asked.

"Possibly, wherever you fell, but it could have spread for miles. Hundreds of miles."

"And would you say I fell somewhere in Western Missouri?"

"Not necessarily. You were simply drawn there for unknown reasons. You could have landed approximately—anywhere on earth."

A pause.

"Boy, do you think you can narrow it down?" Dean said gruffly. "We only have four wheels and four hundred dollars to spare. Ideally, let's keep this in America."

"What means do we even have of finding it?" Sam asked, turning to face Castiel and Thorn.

"Thorn has a connection to it, and may be able to narrow it down to a specific location if she focuses hard enough," explained Castiel with a glance toward Thorn who raised her eyebrows.

"I do?" she challenged.

"If you allow yourself," he replied.

For a moment, Thorn listened to the pounding of the rain on the window, drumming her fingers on her thigh and nibbling on her lower lip.

"So—find the flame, get all my demon/angel mojo back, then whip some Satan ass? That right, angel?" Thorn said. Castiel frowned.

"If by 'whip some Satan ass', you mean performing the permanent undoing of Lucifer, then yes," said Castiel, looking confused.

"Sounds like a game plan to me," said Dean.

"Best one we've ever had," said Sam with a small laugh. "Almost sounds too simple."

"Probably cause we're used to everything being too complicated," said Dean exasperatedly.

Thorn chuckled.

"Now we just have to worry about where to look first," she said.

* * *

**I really hope you liked this chapter. When writing fics I like to stray off of the scripts and kind of do my own versions. While it's more fun, it's a little harder to keep the characters *in* character so I hope I did okay in that department.**

**So! If it's not too much trouble, I would appreciate it so much if you could leave a little review tellin' me what you think! **


	6. Lucky For You, I'm Not a Gentleman

**Sooo . . . I warned you guys about sexual content, and well, here's where you would take up on that advice. Please, if you shy away from such moments for God's sake skip this chapter. **

**I'm going to go find a rock to hide under.**

SIX: Lucky for You, I'm Not a Gentleman

Dean entered the bar to find Thorn already seated at the counter and eyes glued on the television screen were a football game was playing. Dean grinned slightly, scratching his chin and walking up beside her. She didn't look up as he sat next to her, but took a generous sip from her beer, picking a spot on her cheek.

"You know, generally it's unhealthy to drink when you're upset," Dean said.

"Don't worry. I'm just going to have one or twelve."

Dean raised his eyebrows.

"Crazy night like that you're going to need some help getting out the exit."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's all you want to help me with," she said.

"What?"

"Lions scored," she said, still not looking at him and sitting back in her seat, fondling the beer bottle between her fingers before taking another sip. "Aren't you supposed to be back at the motel planning with Sam and angel, or somethin'?"

"Shouldn't you, oh-so-powerful Nephilim?" Dean played back, after ordering a beer from the bartender.

Thorn crossed her legs, a corner of her pouting lips lifting slightly, still watching TV with apparently rapt attention.

"Well, looks like you're just as bad as me, Winchester," she grinned, lifting the bottle to her lips again.

Dean smirked, accepting the ice cold beer gratefully from the barman and drinking deeply. He sighed contentedly. All he needed to complete his temporary happiness was a large bacon cheeseburger and his night would be complete.

"You seem pretty calm after discovering that you're sharing your body with someone," he commented, setting down his beer and leaning slightly over the counter, glancing briefly at the television screen before looking back at Thorn.

She showed no initial reaction to his words, but merely took another sip from her beverage.

"About as much as you were when you discovered whose vessel you were," she replied flatly.

"That's not that calm," he said.

"Then I'm good hiding it."

There was a short pause.

"You know, I'm a little upset I don't have a nickname for you," said Thorn and Dean was taken aback.

"Thanks, but I'll pass on that area."

"Dean-o sounds like some sort of taco," she continued thoughtfully without listening to him.

He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"How about D-man?"

"How about Dean?" he suggested.

"Everything going alright for you two?" asked the approaching bartender, slinging his washcloth over his shoulder.

Thorn finally looked away from the TV, but still didn't look at Dean. Her eyes were set on the counter top and she was smiling slightly.

"Two rounds of whiskey—on the rocks," Dean said, smiling at the bartender who nodded and set off.

"Wasn't it just now you were saying it isn't smart to drink when you're upset?" Thorn asked, but still in a joking mannerism.

"Yeah, well I'm not that smart for the most part, so go figure," he shrugged.

"You think that?"

"I certainly haven't made the best decisions."

"Have you ever met someone who has?"

He glanced at her, slightly irritated to find she was once again watching TV, leaning over with her arms folded on the counter. He leaned back in the bar stool just as their drinks were given to them.

"Fair enough," he said, setting aside the beer and taking instead the whiskey. "So what do you say we drink away our problems like a coupla immature underage teenagers?"

Thorn chuckled.

"I can assure you I can handle my alcohol much better than any underage teenager."

"Care to prove that factor?" Dean challenged.

At last, Thorn turned to look at him. Her eyes hitting his made the hairs on his arms stand on end, but once again it wasn't an overall unpleasant feeling, just strange. She was so alien, so un-earthly that to this point Dean was still having trouble comprehending her.

She tilted her head slightly, reaching down for her glass without breaking eye-contact and her lips curling into a minxy grin.

"Cheers," she said, raising her glass to clink it with his. Dean finished his a little before her, and he watched for a few moments as Thorn's throat fluttered when she swallowed. When she placed her drink on the bar surface next to Dean's, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, sighing.

"Two more, then," she told the barman, slapping her hand lightly on the counter and turning in her seat so that her body faced Dean. His tongue flicked behind his lips at the sight of the grin she was giving him.

The bartender handed them their drinks and she downed hers almost at once. She set it back down, running her tongue over her lower lip and collecting any remnants of the liquor, all while keeping her eyes locked with Dean's.

"You want to see how I handle my alcohol, sit back and enjoy the show, D-man."

She winked, then slid off her stool with as much prowess as a snake. Dean watched her uncertainly, but was still smirking as she made her way across the bar to the jukebox. She inserted a single quarter and started flipping through the music, bent over slightly so that her jeans hugged her rear spectacularly. Dean cocked his head slightly, raising his eyebrows in approval.

A rock guitar started the song with an even beat. The song was funky, loud, and meritorious of Dean's tastes. Eventually, a woman began singing in a velvet, spunky tone and at this point Thorn raised her hands above her head, closing her eyes and swaying her hips to the tune, quite oblivious to the patrons' stares.

Dean watched her dance solo for a few moments, glancing about as there were several shouts of approval. Eventually, several couples joined Thorn on the dancefloor and the bar's atmosphere was picking up with dramatic pace.

"_Somebody mixed my medicine, don't know what I'm on,_" Thorn sang along with the song, opening her eyes to grin at Dean who was staring at her with a mingle of incredulity and amusement. She approached him, giving him that look and continuing to sing. "_Somebody mixed my medicine, somebody's in my head again. _What's the matter, Dean? You don't like The Pretty Reckless?"

"Never heard of 'em," grinned Dean.

"Don't make me dance alone."

"You are not getting me out on that dancefloor," he warned. She arched an eyebrow.

"Anyone can dance. You just need several mouthfuls of alcohol. If you can go up against demons, ghosts, and angels, you can sure as hell learn how to swing that pretty butt of yours. I dare you to try."

Dean eyed her tentatively, watching as Thorn slid her fingers in with his and was pulling slightly. Her eyes were malicious, lips curling in the devilish lopsided grin.

Fuck.

"Well, shit," he said, downing the rest of his drink and submitting to her pull. This made her grin increase as she turned on her heel, still holding his hand and leading him through the crowd. Dean was about ninety-nine percent sure the only reason he was letting her drag him was because of the new burning sensation in his chest from the alcohol.

Thorn stopped them in the center of the room, surrounded by the new dancing couples. She started swaying her hips, running her fingers through her hair and closing her eyes once more. Strangely though, she didn't seem that drunk.

In two million years Dean would never allow a girl to lead him onto the dancefloor of a run down bar like this in the middle of Indiana. Yet as Dean already admitted to himself, Thorn seemed to possess some bizarre ability to waver his feelings and thoughts. He had no idea whether this was due to his growing attracting to her, or some other reason.

"You're a terrible dancer, Dean," Thorn smiled.

"I told you not to bring me out here."

"And I told _you _that you're perfectly capable of learnin'," she retorted, twirling on the spot so she looked up at him with that smirk. She took his hands in hers, causing Dean to give a small grin.

"You really wanna make a chick flick scene outta this?" she snorted.

His only answer was a mischievous wink which caused her pink lips to part slightly.

"You put your hands on my waist like this," she instructed, planting his hands firmly on her hips and Dean laughed quietly. "I wrap my hands around your neck—like so."

"Chick flick scene accomplished," said Dean.

"Now all you have to do," continued Thorn, eyebrows lifting along with her grin. "Is show me that your hips don't lie, Winchester."

Dean couldn't help it; he burst out laughing. He hadn't remembered the last time he had a good laugh or something that genuinely humored him. He had gotten so used to death and tragedy, angel this, demon that, that he had come close to plain out forgetting what contentedness felt like.

Though he was able to let loose a bit, Thorn did most of the dancing, doing rather extravagant moves just to put a smile on Dean's face. It was working. Dean was positive he had never met a girl like her, and it wasn't necessarily a good nor a bad thing. She visited areas that was irregular to the every day human, and didn't seem to show any shame for it.

The song ended but it was a while before Thorn opened her eyes. When she did, her gaze met Dean's, and she smiled again.

.

Dean was preparing himself for facing Castiel and Sam's wrath for when he returned back to the motel room. In the present, he was dropping Thorn off at her own room that a few doors down from his and Sam's. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly as Thorn faced her door, pausing after unlocking it.

"Thank you," she said, turning to face him. He raised his eyebrows momentarily.

"For?"

She shrugged, chuckling under her breath.

"I dunno. Findin' out I've been inside a body that doesn't belong to you for the past twenty-six years tends to bring my mood down a little. I literally just needed a night like this."

"One that consists of becoming slightly drunk and dancing with a guy that can't dance for shit?" Dean asked and Thorn laughed.

"Yeah, actually," she smiled. "You're cute when you try to act like you know what you're doing."

What was that thing Sam told Dean not to do? Something about hooking up with the destroyer of Satan? Hell, he didn't care at this point.

He smirked.

"Sweetheart, I'm cute no matter _what _I do," he told her. She arched an eyebrow.

"Care to prove that factor?" she mimicked.

At this point, it was inevitable. Dean enjoyed the fact that she was tall enough so that he didn't need to lean down a great deal. His mouth pressed against hers and he felt her smirk. Her lips were just as soft as he had imagined, and he had been imagining for what seemed a great deal of time. He liked that her hands automatically crept along his chest and the pressure she applied, or how her tongue flicked softly on his lower lip, making him grin,

But something was dimly stirring in the back of his mind, and when he took heed to it, it became larger. It was Sam's voice of warning, telling him he was now making out with their last chance to save the world and it was possible that it could corrupt with their plans. It took a great deal of willpower, but Dean was eventually able to withdraw from Thorn's warm lips.

She didn't look sad or offended by his sudden retreat, but merely gave him a curious stare with those unorthodox, large brown eyes.

"I should really be a gentleman here," Dean sighed, placing his hands in his jean pockets and watching her tentatively.

She watched him for a few seconds, looking him up and down momentarily while biting down on her lower lip. She suddenly got a very impish grin on her lips as she leaned forward, taking the collar of Dean's shirt and pulling him down slightly so that her lips were an inch from his ear.

"Well, lucky for you, I'm not a gentleman," she whispered.

He retracted, staring at her for a millisecond.

It wasn't a second later that the motel door crashed open with Dean and Thorn's lips collided back together in blissful rhythms. Dean almost couldn't slam the door shut because he was too busy feeling Thorn's hands resting on his shoulders, sliding down his jacket without breaking the kiss.

His breath hitched slightly as her lips pressed against the bottom of his throat, delivering them upward until she kissed up his jawline. All the while she grabbed small handfuls of his hair and Dean revered her touch.

He couldn't explain it, and nor did he think he was in the state of mind to attempt to, but kissing Thorn or having any form of contact with her was like igniting some form of lighter fluid within him. The fire could be terrifying if you weren't careful, but in the present Dean relinquished the burn.

He bit down on her lip, biting harder when he received no immediate reaction from her. Dean could imagine her giving him that smirking look that indicated she was the one in control here.

Dean was startled but pleased when she took his shoulders roughly and whirled him around with abundant strength, causing him to hurl backward on the bed. He couldn't even comprehend the look Thorn was giving him and he would have never imagined it was possible for an expression to allure him so much. With her eyes slightly narrowed and lips coiling upward in that lopsided simper, she moved with—for the lack of a better reference—the grace and motility of an advancing feline.

Her footsteps made no sound as she crept to the end of the bed and Dean watched her with rapt attention, eyes trailing over her lips that shined with saliva. She undid the button and zipper of her jeans, sliding them down with ill-disguised impatience and Dean allowed himself a moment to appreciate the shape of her thighs. Well curved with enough meat to cause any man to pant with desire, they attached to the defined hip bones that casted the smallest of shadows over her stomach.

Dean swallowed as she crawled on top of him, taking his hands in hers and pressing them to the top of her shirt, silently telling him to undress her. Dean hastened to comply, yet bizarrely found that his fingers were shaking slightly.

Dean Winchester, being nervous during sex? What in the world was this woman doing to him?

The white button down shirt pooled around her elbows as she lowered herself so that her crotch sat on his and legs tightened slightly around his waist. She revealed that she was wearing the same skin-colored bra she had on the other night. It was nothing special, no extra padding, or notorious sexiness, but Dean was realizing that he had never actually taken much appreciation to the swell of her breasts beforehand. It wasn't that they were exceptionally big that made them ideal. In Dean's mind, it was the rounding of them and how full they appeared, as he found out a moment later when Thorn graciously took his hand again and placed it on her left breast.

Dean refrained from groaning through his teeth as his hand massaged the tumid size of her boob, boldly slipping his finger beneath the bra and feeling skin-to-skin. Thorn breathed in a small sigh, closing her eyes briefly before reaching her hands behind her and undoing the bra. She tossed it carelessly aside, then attended to relieving Dean of his T-shirt.

He lifted his arms above him, aiding her in her task. She placed a soft kiss to his lips before throwing the shirt alongside the bra. She pressed her moist lips to the center of his chest, trailing her wet kisses downward, careful to add an enticing lick or nibble along his skin that caused Dean to throw his head back gently on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling momentarily as Thorn worked on his belt, then pulling his jeans down with teasing speed.

He was growing harder and harder every time her skin brushed against his or whenever she offered another kiss to a piece of his skin. He was sure she was well aware of it(it was hard to ignore considering he was now merely laying in his boxer briefs)yet she still continued to only kiss him teasingly.

Dean actually opened his mouth to tell her quit with the teasing, but wondered quickly if that was what she wanted. He had a funny feeling there was a mental agreement for the battle of dominance going on here. If she thought he was submitting to her, she was sadly mistaken.

To prove this to himself, he sat upright, taking her by the waist and twirling her around so that she sat beneath him instead. A wild spark flashed in her eyes as she stared up at him, full lips parted slightly as she trailed her hands down his biceps, chewing down on her lower lip in a manner that was enough for Dean to come then and there.

He spread her legs slightly, staring intently down at her with as much dominance as he could muster, hoping she was getting the idea. She merely continued to grin up at him in a way that said 'try your best.'

He was Dean fucking Winchester; she had no idea what she was asking.

He grasped her waist on either side, getting a firm grip and pulling her fiercely toward him so she slid across the bedsheets, forcing her legs to spread around him. Her breasts bounced slightly as he did so, earning a small smile from Dean.

He rested his hand firmly underneath Thorn's right calf, lifting it slightly so he slid his tongue along her inner thigh. He was positive he felt her shiver and grinned slightly in satisfaction. He trailed his tongue all the way down her leg until it reached the dangerous territory of the outline of her thin panties.

He glanced upward at her. She was watching him intently, no longer smiling but expression filled with utmost want. He was adamant about breaking her, making her succumb to moaning his name and begging for more.

With no intention of delaying his plan, he lowered his head once more between her legs, using one finger to pull aside the underwear fabric, revealing her moist lips. Dean swallowed again, closing his eyes shortly as if savoring the moment. He generally wasn't one to enjoy the process of eating out a girl. Usually, he took what he wanted when he wanted since typically the girls he was with he would never see again, so what was the point of giving it his all as long as he got the sweet end of the lollipop?

But Thorn—it seemed a bit different. Not just because of the reason that they were bound to be working together for a while now, but because something about her presence and mannerism made Dean want to pleasure her in every way he could permit. For once, he wanted to be the generous one in the sex and was slightly astonished at how good that sounded.

So, with one last glance at Thorn's pressing expression, his tongue came in contact with her clit and he heard the sharp intake of breath from Thorn. The sound was enough motivation for Dean to move his tongue with more fevered speeds, tasting her, groaning into her. Thorn's fingers intertwined in the locks of his hair, pulling slightly so his face was pushed a little harder into her.

While his mouth was busy down there, his hand crept upward and rested on her right breast, pinching the nipple tightly between his forefinger and thumb.

"Ah, _fuck, _Dean," Thorn whimpered, giving the first sign of vulnerability. Though Dean wasn't even halfway finished. He wanted her to be screaming that name in the next couple of minutes. He used his other hand to press his middle finger into her wet hole, pumping it slowly in and out, feeling her walls close in over it. She was biting feverishly down on her lip now, trying to refrain from any moans.

_Oh no. You're not getting off that easily, _Dean thought wickedly.

While continuing to eat her out furiously, he added a second finger to her and Thorn's hand grasped the sheets between her fingers, clenching her eyes shut and mouth opened in a silent moan. He curved his fingers upward, determined to get a dramatic reaction out of her but she still wasn't cracking.

Was he really going to have to bring out the big gun for this one?

Dean's fingers fell from her vagina, and although her eyes pleaded, she said nothing. This fact angered Dean. It was insane. When she showed no response to his acts in pleasuring, he all the more wanted to get one out of her even if he had to take the most drastic measures.

But Thorn appeared to have other things planned. Her hands slid down his abdomen, reaching the brim of his underwear until creeping itself in. Dean actually forgot the English language for a moment as her fingers rubbed up and down against his shaft. He felt his shoulders threatening to give way as he hovered over her, eyes closed as her speed over his cock increased. His mouth was open in nearly a perfect 'o' shape, a low growl sounding from the back of his throat.

"This what you like, Dean?" Thorn breathed as Dean could no longer take it and fell on his back beside Thorn. She was lounging beside him, still holding her fingers somewhat tightly against his hardened member. "Me jacking you off?"

"F-fuuuck," Dean sighed, drawing out the word and clenching his eyes shut tight. All he was aware of right now were her fingers wrapped around his length and the increasing speed she was adding to them. He opened his eyes to find Thorn watching him, running her tongue over her lips.

If she wasn't careful, he would be coming before they could get a chance to reach home base. Dean knew he should be telling her this, but he couldn't possibly imagine those fingers leaving his dick.

Of course, he was losing the battle of dominance. He knew this and it was costing him a generous handful of pride that he wasn't doing anything about it.

"You didn't answer me," Thorn said, creeping toward him so her naked body pressed against his. Her teeth captured his earlobe, sucking and biting it. She was really expecting him to remember what she asked him when she was doing that? He had a weird feeling if she kept this up he was going to be forgetting his name by the end of the night.

This was so bizarre. This was the first time Dean had ever been the submission to the dominant, and . . . he didn't completely dislike it.

"I asked you what you like," Thorn said, catching his lower lip and dragging backward.

"I—" Dean breathed, but speaking was becoming a myth.

Thorn was grinning in a way that said she knew exactly what Dean was undergoing. The little tramp.

"It's not hard, sweetie," Thorn cooed, releasing his member and climbing back on top of him, just above his groin. His abandoned cock twitched anxiously. He was honestly speechless as he gazed up at the girl sitting on top of him, the living and breathing proof of an ultimate seductress. There was no other explanation; Dean had always had the utmost confidence and fervor when it came to sex, and when he sat face-to-face with the minxy Nephilim, he felt there was a roadblock built in the back of his throat.

"I'll show you," Thorn continued, brushing her fingers across Dean's cheek with such a feather-light touch that Dean closed his eyes in anxiety. Her hands gripped his shoulders, pulling herself over him so that her breasts crushed against his chest and her lips were once more were so close to his ear that her hot breath ruffled his skin. "I want you to take me in every position you have stored up there in that naughty brain of yours. I want you pound that rock-hard cock into my tight pussy until I can't feel my legs anymore. By the time this night is over, I want to have claw and bite marks all over my body so everyone knows you've claimed this territory."

_Holy shitting hell, she didn't just say that, did she!?  
_

She talked of having him dominating her, and yet that little speech left him completely immobile and being able to do nothing but stare up at her. Or did it? He felt the blood rushing down into his groin all over again and he groaned against his clenched teeth.

He sat upright so quickly that Thorn almost fell backward, yet he caught her lower back with his hand and held her steady. He started kissing her so fiercely that he wasn't even sure the saliva in his mouth was one-hundred percent his anymore. Gripping her shoulder blades, he whirled her around her back, positioning her right leg up on his shoulder and the other tightly gripped in his hand.

She had awakened the beast within him, and from the sparkle in her eyes he guessed that was exactly what she was trying to do. He quite literally ripped off the flimsy panties, making Thorn release a small, surprised squeak. With one prominent thrust, he penetrated her and at last, Thorn released a sharp moan, reaching behind her a grasping the pillow between clenched fists. He thrust harder, faster, feeling her walls forcibly stretch to his side. He released a growl from the back of his throat. She started rocking back against him, if possible, forcing him deeper inside her.

It was absolutely chaotically insane of how the desire to touch her, to consume her completely was becoming a lethal addiction to him. He wanted more when he already had it all, he craved her touch like the thirsty wanderer craved water—his mind was becoming completely and utterly possessed by the desire to have all of her.

He lowered himself over her, still pounding with speeds that led Dean to a fierce pant. Her legs wrapped around his waist as she cried out his name, whispered how good it felt, and begged for it harder. He crashed his lips against hers, their tongues twirling together like hyperactive snakes. Her nails dragged across his back, and he was sure that at one point or another, she broke the skin.

Although the sex was rough, it held a great deal of flaming passion. He revered the touch of when his stomach would brush against hers, or whenever she would bite on his lip again, or when her fingers trailed through his hair, pressing down so that his face was buried in the crook of her neck.

His hands ensnared her hips, gripping them tightly as he continued to pump in and out, moaning into her mouth and clenching his eyes shut as he was overwhelmed by the intense and overbearing waves of purest euphoria.

"Dean—I'm—I'm going to—" but Thorn needn't finish that whimpering sentence. As her head flung backward on the pillow, he kissed up her neck, licking and biting her soft flesh, grabbing handfuls of her hair and tugging lightly.

His building orgasm was reaching brim-point and Dean wasn't able to control the panting groans at this point. His thrusts were becoming limited, but with one final and ferocious pound, he came. He actually shouted out load as wave after _wave _of euphoric bolts encased over him completely, so intense, so abundant, that he choked back on his yell, the pleasure almost so pure that it hurt.

Thorn's legs turned boneless and she released a high-pitched cry, digging her nails into Dean's arms. Her body did an odd shudder, closing her eyes as her orgasm sheathed her.

He collapsed on top of Thorn, chest rising and falling in time with his heavy panting. His face buried in her shoulder, Thorn, recovering herself at a faster pace, began to draw light circles on his back.

When finding control of his body, he raised his head enough to meet her eyes. She was smiling, and he was smiling back. He kissed her, not with the same desperate-for-contact ardor as before, but soft and light.

The two, absolutely exhausted, settled into a comfortable position with Dean's arm draped around her shoulder and face buried in her mane of blonde hair. Her head rested on his shoulder, her nose grazing the his neck and breath tickling his skin, she dozed off.

For the first time in a long time, Dean fell asleep with a faint smile on his face.

* * *

**Sooooo? That bundle of pure smut is worth a few reviews, yeah? This is actually my first time publishing a scene involving such vivid sex, so I'm hoping I did okay.**

**Random disclaimer: in no way do I own the song 'My Medicine' by the Pretty Reckless. All rights go to the rightful owners, blah dee blah. I was just listening to the song and thought it fit the scene perfectly.**

**Tell me your thoughts? :)**


	7. Separation

**The reviews on the last chapter made me grin like a friggin' fool. Thank you guys so much. Getting those kinds of reviews is kinda like having an early birthday. I had so much fun writing this chapter and I hope you have just as much reading! **

**Enjoy!**

SEVEN: Separation  


Thorn stretched her legs underneath the sheets, releasing a small contended sigh as she buried her face further into the pillow. She couldn't remember why she was happy, but a light, bubbly sensation was rising from her stomach to chest and fluttering all throughout her body. She opened her eyes, vision focusing on the white ceiling.

When she reached down to scratch her hip bone, she was temporarily confused as to why she was minus any clothing. She sat upright, holding the fluffy blanket to her bare breasts and glancing around. Her eyebrows rose as her gaze found the sleeping figure of a guy sleeping soundly next to her on his stomach.

Was she an idiot? She had just practically had one of the most amazing nights of her life and she briefly forgot about it! She almost laughed, laying herself back down beside Dean so that she rested on her side. The blanket only covered him from the waist down so his muscled back was exposed.

Leaning her head on her elbow and smiling to herself, she placed her middle finger between his shoulder blades, drawing imaginary designs with a feather-light touch. Her smile grew larger when Dean's nose scrunched up when he sensed a disturbance in his sleep.

His eyelids that concealed the apple green eyes twitched slightly and, still asleep, rubbed his nose with his forearm and shifted to his side so that he now fully faced Thorn.

She had the most amazing idea to do something very naughty, like applying makeup to his face while he still remained in his slumber. But she owned none. Still, the thought of putting on 'pink taffeta' on those scrumptious lips of his was a stomach-clenching idea. Hmm. And maybe a bit of violet eyeshadow to go with those green eyes of his. A bit of bronzer along his cheekbones would do some amazing highlighting.

"What exactly are you doing?" Dean murmured sleepily.

Thorn had been caught red-handed trailing her fingers along his facial structure. A single eyelid flickered open and fixed on Thorn laying there. She grinned.

"Thinking of naughty things," she said.

"Oh, already? It's only eight in the mornin'," Dean said with a small yawn, glancing over at the digital alarm clock sitting on the nightstand.

"No. _Innocent _naughty things."

"Like what?"

"Like what blush goes best with your complexion."

He opened his eyes fully, staring at her with furrowed brows and raising his head slightly. He watched her smiling down at him. His lips parted slightly in confusion as his brows instead started rising.

"Is this a Nephilim thing?" he asked wearily.

"No. Just a Thorn thing," she said, placing a gentle hand on his chest and leaning to brush her lips gently against his. "Morning, handsome."

"Morning," he replied groggily, attempting to shift a small smile up at her, a single finger playing with a strand of her loose hair. "Y'know, I'm kinda surprised my brother didn't order an army to stampede through the door by this point."

"He must have an idea where you are," simpered Thorn, resting her hand on the side of his head and intertwining her fingers through his short hair.

"That's why I'm surprised he hasn't done anythin'," he chuckled, running his thumb softly across her cheek.

"Well, before we face Sam's wrath, I think we have a little bit of extra time," said Thorn mischievously, resting her hand instead upon his abdomen and giving a small shiver at the feel of his defined muscle.

He arched a brow.

"Already?"

"Well, if you don't think you can . . ." Thorn teased, glancing down at the sheets and unable to hold back a smile. She knew she had just touched a sore point of his masculinity, and it showed when his eyes flashed.

He slid two fingers under Thorn's chin and lifted her face so she looked at him, bringing her closer so he could kiss her. Once again, Thorn fell into a cascade of bliss and relief when those lips touched hers. He positioned himself over her, his knees resting on either side of her waist. When his tongue slithered in past her lips, she gave a small shudder, feeling him grin into the kiss. His hand slid from her shoulder, touching the sheet and bringing it down along her body.

Thorn's breasts were revealed again and Dean kissed the right one gently, dragging his tongue up to her collarbone where he sucked and bit the skin, leaving a dark hickey.

Thorn was all for it until her gaze temporarily flickered past Dean's shoulder and realized they were not alone. Thorn could only permit herself to saying a few undecipherable vowel sounds before she pushed Dean off her. His look of confusion and rejection washed cleanly off his expression when he gazed around the room to find Castiel standing at the end of the bed.

"Cas—what—!" Dean exclaimed as he hurriedly pulled the sheets up to his chin, Thorn quickly mimicking him. "Whoa, whoa. Cas, what the _hell?"_

Castiel's expression was indifferent.

"Your brother wishes to talk over the plans," he said in his hoarse voice, looking between the two with his permanently narrowed brows.

Dean, looking completely astounded, stared up at the angel.

"Can it _wait?" _Dean asked incredulously after a pause, raising up his hands and silently indicating the situation.

"No," said Castiel firmly. "Your brother says he has just received a call from an old hunter that needs your assistance."

"Hunter?" echoed Dean. "What hunter?"

"Martin."

Dean's eyebrows pulled together.

"Martin was admitted to a mental hospital in Oklahoma years ago," Dean said uncertainly.

"And evidently needs your aid. Sam has asked me to find you." Another pause. "Why were you on top of the Nephilim?" he adds with a frown.

"I'll go find Sam," Dean uttered, turning on his side to coot out of bed, but with a glance at Castiel, evidently decides against it. "Could you maybe leave?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm fuckin' naked, Cas," Dean said outwardly and at this point Thorn snorted, causing the angel to look at her.

Castiel stood there for several more moments, casting his frown at Dean and then Thorn before giving a curt nod.

"I'll be outside," he said awkwardly, and was gone the next second.

Dean sighed, sitting upright in bed and shifting his legs under the sheets so he sat on the side of the bed. Throughout the entire scene, Thorn was trying her hardest not to burst out laughing even if she was incredibly irritated at the angel for ruining her sexy time.

As Dean rubbed his eyes with his fingers, Thorn sat up and leaned against his back, intertwining her arms across his chest as she rested her chin on his shoulder, nuzzling his neck.

"Another time," she assured him, kissing him softly at spot on his throat. Dean smirked, turning halfway as if to kiss her, but stopped. He merely nodded then got to his feet.

The two got dressed with as much time as they pleased and the exited the room.

Dean was right in assuming his brother would be angry with him. When the pair got to room eighteen, Sam was sitting on the edge of one of the beds, laptop resting on legs. He looked up when they entered and his eyes, so alike to brother's, hardened.

"Dean," he said stiffly with a glance at Thorn.

"Sam," said Dean, raising his eyebrows.

Castiel was standing in the corner, figure as erect as per usual. His eyes flickered across Thorn momentarily before looking at Sam.

"So, what does Martin want?" Dean asked nonchalantly, seating himself down in the armchair and crossing his legs while Thorn remained standing by the door.

Appearing to be pushing aside his anger for a later date, Sam set aside his laptop on the bed and looked at his brother.

"He just called me saying that there have been reoccurring deaths in the hospital he's in."

"Great," said Dean. "What does he want us to do about it?"

"He wants our help," said Sam, frowning slightly.

"So we, what, admit ourselves into the crazy bin?"

"Actually, that's exactly what he wants us to do," said Sam with a sigh. "Get a look at things from the inside, see if we can stop and find whatever's been going on."

Dean looked at his brother for several moments, leaning forward and folding his hands together.

"Well, going into a mental hospital is one way to start the day," he muttered, and it was sad at how unsurprised by this news he seemed. His eyes found Thorn. "A day in the life of the Winchesters. Hope you're ready to join the club."

"Actually, I met one of my old friends in an insane asylum," she said, and all three men stared at her. "What?" she said defensively. "My mother admitted me when I was twelve when I told her I could hear voices."

"You don't seem too bothered by it," said Dean.

"Home was worse. When we weren't being chased by demons my father abused the use of alcohol. Hospitals don't bug me."

"Regardless of your thoughts on asylums, you will not being going on this mission with Dean and Sam," said Castiel shortly and Thorn whipped her head up to him.

"What?" she and Dean said in unison.

"Why?" Thorn demanded.

"It is not necessary to have the Nephilim wonder about solving cases when she has to be searching for her flame, furthermore ending the Devil. Dean and—"

"Thorn," Thorn interrupted him suddenly, crossing her arms and looking irritably at Castiel. He looked at her. "My name is Thorn, not 'the Nephilim.' I'm still a person."

"Presently. When you regain your flame you will be higher than any angel or demon. You will conceive the power to destroy Lucifer, and that is more than any being, dead or alive, has ever dreamed of."

"And until that happy day," said Thorn shortly, almost cutting across him again. "I'd still liked to be called Thorn and treated like a human being, however untrue that may be."

Castiel's gaze turned steely.

"You realize that Nephilims are the angel epitome to the stories human parents tell their children on their bedside? Nephilims are not taken lightly in the heaven realm, and I imagine there are plenty of beings out there risking leg and limb to find you."

Thorn's eyes only hardened further, arms crossing tightly over her chest.

"So, what are trying to say, angel? That I'm some big shot who deserves to be placed on a pedestal? I have enough troubles survivin' demons. If you have any other Nephilim close at hand, I'd suggest pickin' one of them out because I'm not sure if I'm strong enough."

The brothers were looking nervously between the Nephilim and angel. Thorn watched as irritability flickered across Castiel's gaze and could practically see the vein throbbing in his temple.

"A single Nephilim is said to be born every three thousand years so the probability of finding another another is very slim. But for your sake and the entire world's, I suggest you start cooperating unless you wish to see every single living person crushed beneath the heel of the Lucifer."

Thorn didn't think it was possible for an angel's voice to turn so cold. She watched him steadily for several more long moments then her eyes found Dean's. He was looking slightly awkward at witnessing the confrontation between her and Castiel, but nodded his head shortly. She scratched the back of her neck, arms then falling loosely to her sides.

"Fair enough, angel," she said. "I'll play obedient dog. What's next on the agenda?"

"We look for your flame," said Castiel.

Thorn did a double take between the brothers and angel.

"We? We as in, you and me, we?"

"Is there another English definition of it?" Castiel questioned. Thorn's face turned sour. She didn't like the idea of leaving behind Dean and Sam(or more so Dean)to travel alone with Castiel and putting up with his laconic comments. However it was done, Thorn imagined finding her flame would be difficult. She also didn't know how long the task would take, or more importantly, how accepting its power would affect her. Would perhaps the next time she saw Dean and Sam she would no longer be the same person? What if she became as brusque and unfeeling as Castiel seemingly seemed to be?

She was beginning to like this plan less and less.

Thorn looked at Dean for a reaction, but he wasn't looking at her. His hands were resting on his knees and he looked tired. She sighed silently. For once in her life, she was glad she couldn't love otherwise she might feel offended by Dean's sudden urge to distance themselves.

One night stand girl. That's who she was.

She turned to Castiel, folding her arms again and nodding.

"Great. Let's get this show on the road then."

* * *

**And here we progress. How do you think Thorn travelling alone with Castiel will play out, especially when their relationship starts out a bit roughly? Ahhh rival romance, one of my favorites.**

**I'm going to have so much fun with this fic.**

**Tell me your thoughts? :D**


	8. Road Trips With Angels

EIGHT: Road Trips With Angels

"You want to . . . _what?" _the man called Bobby demanded. He sat in a wheelchair and wore an apron that read 'Kiss the Cook' in broad, black letters with a pair of flowery oven mits. His eyes flickered to Thorn standing beside Castiel.

"Borrow one of your vehicles," the angel repeated slowly and clearly.

"Don't get your wings in a twist. I heard ya' the first time. Hurry up with the whinny ninny talk. I have a quiche burnin'. What I meant was is why?"

Thorn hadn't picked up much about this man except for that he was apparently a very long term friend of Dean and Sam's, so she wasn't too weary about trusting him. Also, the way he talked to Castiel left him marked down as 'awesome' in her book. He hadn't heeded to much attention for her wish to be treated human and merely became confused when she continued to ask him.

Not minutes ago, she had teleported for the first time and it hadn't been a pleasant experience. It was much like being forced to slide through an extremely tight rubber tube and left her disoriented.

"Thorn is not yet able to transport on her own. In the meantime we need a car to travel. You have an entire junk yard of them, one of them must still be in working condition."

"Okay, I get the car part. Who are you?" he added to Thorn.

"Thorn, destroyer of Satan, and you?" said Thorn airily.

He raised his eyebrows.

"Bobby Singer, destroyer of . . . quiches. Cas, _what _is this about?" he added exasperatedly to the angel. "Where's Dean and Sam?"

"Kentucky," said Castiel shortly. "A hunter required their aid."

"And what is this 'destroyer of Satan mojo?"

Castiel opened his mouth but Thorn intervened.

"He'll go on and on about it. Long story short; I'm Nephilim and apparently I can kill the Devil. We just a need some wheels."

Castiel shifted a small frown to Thorn who was looking adamantly forward.

"Nephilim? Halfbreed?" Bobby said, sitting further back in his chair and looking at Thorn skeptically. "You don't really strike me as the angel type, girl."

"And at this point I'm considering that a compliment," she muttered.

"Well let's not haunt my doorstep any longer," said Bobby, wheeling backward to allow them entry. "You can share my burnt spinach quiche."

With a glance at each other, Castiel and Thorn attempted to enter the door at the same time but together they did not fit. Castiel's face flickered the smallest amount of awkwardness before taking a step backward and allowing Thorn to enter first. With a pause, Thorn obliged and stepped through the threshold with Castiel closely behind.

"You two majorly conflicted, aint'cha?" said Bobby slowly, noting the tension between the two.

"I don't have a problem with him," said Thorn.

Bobby raised thick brows.

"I've had about enough from the upstairs crowd," mumbled Bobby, shutting the door and wheeling off to the kitchen.

Thorn took in the sight of the house. It was cluttered, but not uncomfortably so. Stacks of papers were set in various places around the house and the stench of burning cheese suddenly hit Thorn's nostrils. She and Castiel found Bobby taking out a his food from the oven, setting it on the counter, but then mumbled darkly about being too short.

"Here," said Thorn quickly, walking past Castiel to attend to the cripple.

"I don't need your help, girl," Bobby said harshly and Thorn hesitated, watching Bobby get a knife and fork from the drawer and attempted to cut himself a slice. She had only known him for a few minutes and yet she had funny feeling that he was touchy about being handicapped.

It took a few moments, but Bobby handled himself just fine and was now seated at the kitchen table and eating away at his burnt quiche.

"So, you can supposedly defeat Satan?" Bobby said after about a minute. Thorn seated herself in the seat opposite Bobby while Cas remained standing in the doorway.

"That's the rumor," she mumbled.

"How?"

"That is—an excellent question," said Thorn, turning to look at Castiel with a dry smile. "How _am _I supposed to kill Satan, angel?"

Castiel did not reply immediately, remaining immobile and blue eyes wavering absently into the distance.

"I do not know how a Nephilim's power works; it was never my job to do so. We focus on finding your flame and then work from there."

"Finding your what?" Bobby said gruffly.

"And how do we find my flame?" Thorn asked, ignoring Bobby.

"As I said before; you have a direct link to it and with enough focus you can be able to pinpoint its location. There is a talisman I know the location of that is meant for channeling angel's energy. It may be able to help you center yourself and furthermore discover the area your flame fell."

"Groovy," said Thorn. "And after that?"

"We find Sam and Dean, find out how to vanquish the Devil, and kill him."

"Oh, you make it sound so simple," Bobby said sardonically. "Would've thought that a high powered angel like yourself would have realized by now that our ideas never go exactly accordin' to plan. Don't you think it'd be safer to at least have a 'Plan B'?"

"There is only one plan, none listing off on the letters of the alphabet," said Castiel with a small frown. "Thorn _is _the plan."

Bobby shifted a small glance toward Thorn and she guessed there was many unsaid things drifting in the air. She realized he was wary about trusting her, and hell, who was she to blame him? She probably wouldn't have felt any differently if two people showed up on his doorstep, one of them being an angel who wore a mask of emotionlessness, and a blonde girl who claimed she could kill Lucifer.

At this point Thorn wasn't even sure if _she _was a believer.

"Nephilim—now, is that what I'm thinkin' of?" Bobby said leisurely, looking up at Castiel. "Part angel and part . . . demon?"

"Yes," Castiel answered. "When we find her flame her powers will return."

Thorn felt Bobby's gaze back on her.

"Right. Now, you seem like a nice girl, but who's to say what will happen if you find this, erm, flame when you're fifty-fifty with the whole demon/angel business."

"What do you mean?" Thorn questioned.

"Well, a demon's a demon. You don't think that's gonna affect your way of thinkin', do ya'?" Bobby inquired with double take between the two.

"As in—going evil?" Thorn asked, her voice a bit higher than intended.

Bobby's silence was Thorn's answer. She sunk back in the chair, arms drooping softly to her sides as she stared out of the window. That couldn't be true. She would still be Thorn. She hadn't lived twenty-six years to change into a completely different person.

She turned to find Castiel watching her intently.

.

"You don't think it's true, do you?" Thorn asked Castiel slowly five minutes into their drive down the highway. Thorn was seated behind the wheel of a magnificent 1970 red Chevelle which was a bit of a fixer upper, but Bobby still left an eerie warning if they left so much as a scratch upon the paint, one of her limbs would go mysteriously missing.

"When he spoke of you turning against us?" asked Castiel, narrowed eyes staring ahead out on the open road.

Thorn hesitated.

"Yeah."

He shifted in his seat, taking in a small intake of breath.

"You must understand your condition is uncannily rare, even in the heaven realm. There is little next to nothing known about Nephilim. Generally how a demon is made is a human soul being tortured in Hell until eventually succumbing to its demon form. You have never been to hell; you have not endured this. You inherit your demon side through the genes of your mother. Basing off this information, you will not be like the demons we typically encounter."

Thorn's grip on the steering wheel loosened slightly and her body relaxed. She hadn't expected it, but the angel's words relieved an immense load of concern off her shoulders. She glanced sideways at him.

"Maybe you're not so bad after all, angel."

He shifted again, looking at her.

"Why is it you keep referring me as my race? I didn't know that was a form of communication for humans."

Thorn paused, reciting his words in her head before chuckling.

"It's not," she assured him, smiling. "It's my nickname for you, I guess."

"Nickname?" repeated Castiel.

"Y'know. Something we call each other when we—um. Well, when something reminds of someone—" she cut herself off again, trying to think of a way to describe clearly to Cas exactly what a nickname was, since she was so fond of them. "Just a little funny thing we like to call people that isn't actually their real name."

There was a short pause, and Thorn peered briefly over at the passenger seat to find Castiel's face mixed up in confusion.

"I do not understand," he said flatly, looking at her. "If the person in question already has a name, why give them a second?"

"It's like 'Cas', for 'Castiel'," Thorn said, her smile growing. She wasn't sure why, but this conversation was extremely amusing to her.

"But I can comprehend that. It is short for my full name. Why do you do such things when there is no reason for doing them?" There was a thick level of purest confusion in his voice.

"Well, that about levels up society in one sentence," Thorn chuckled. She glanced at him. "Try it. Try giving me a nickname. What do I remind you of?"

Thorn waited while Castiel drifted off into thoughtful silence, genuinely curious of what his answer would be.

"The words 'uncooperative' and 'wearying' come into mind. Is this a suitable nickname?"

Thorn frowned out the windshield, parting her lips slightly.

"O-okay," said Thorn with an uncertain laugh. "Well, ten points for honesty, anyway."

"You confuse me much more then the Winchesters," said Castiel, glancing out the passenger window.

"In what way?" Thorn questioned, raising her eyebrows.

"You show a rough display of disdain, and then you reverse its affects. Usually humans are abrupt about how they feel for another, yet with you I cannot tell."

"You think humans are always honest?" Thorn asked with a small laugh under her breath. "They're about the least honest thing in the universe."

"Yet you all choose to be. Do you think God gave humans willpower merely to have them abuse it?"

"I think that's exactly what he did it," said Thorn and the angel peered at her with, if possible, even more narrowed eyes than usual. Thorn looked at him briefly, giving a small shrug. "Not to sound religious, but God made our imperfections, right? Why would he do that unless he expected us to perform them? S'just a though," she added defensively under the look Castiel was giving her.

He opened his mouth, but closed it suddenly. It was the first time Thorn had seen him majorly struggle with a concept before, but then again, she hadn't known him for very long.

When he said nothing for several moments, Thorn thought it best to bring up another conversation since she was suspicious she had offended the angel in some department.

"This talisman you spoke of," she said. "Where is it?"

"Its last sighting was in Albuquerque, New Mexico but was sold off to a hunter who lives in Espanola. It's my firm belief that he still has it and that it will be able to help us find your flame."

"New Mexico?" Thorn said, her nose scrunching. "That's a pretty far drive. You couldn't just—zap us there?"

"I do not know the exact location to 'zap' us to and since my link with connection is now lost, teleporting us to too many areas too many times will wain on my strength immeasurably. It is safer to drive."

Thorn let out a low breath.

"A few days stuck in the car with a nagging angel," she said. "You're lucky you're good-looking."

There was a pause in which Castiel shifted an uncertain and hesitant glance toward Thorn.

"I don't see how any level of attractiveness could make this journey easier," he said, sitting back in the leather interior and watching Thorn with a conflicted expression.

"Just—accept the damn compliment," Thorn laughed.

Castiel remained disquiet, seeming to be thinking much too hard on what she had just said to him. Thorn considered telling him that there really wasn't much to think on, but allowed him to wallow in his thoughts.

Before their departure, Thorn and Dean promised each other they would text each other once they got to their destination for the night, and Thorn was adamantly curious on how the case was going so far. She was reluctant to leave the Winchesters' side, but didn't see how much good it would do to whine about it. She would be seeing them again soon enough.

.

It was ten hours later that they reached the Colorado border line and stopped at a cheap Motel 8 for the night and by the time Thorn received her key card, her eyelids weighed heavy like cement. Apparently the concierge misjudged the situation when he saw Castiel standing beside her because when she opened the motel room door, only one queen-sized bed sat against the wall.

But to her surprise, Castiel came to the rescue.

"I don't sleep," he said gruffly with a single glance at the bed.

She raised her eyebrows.

"Never?"

"No."

"What do you do all night then?" she asked, shifting her bag off her shoulder and crossing her arms, looking curiously at Cas.

"Stand, ponder the questions and beliefs of humans, wonder why I am here."

There was an uncertain pause.

"That was me making a joke," said Castiel in the same curt voice.

"Right. Remind me to take you to a comedy club sometime," she said, patting him lightly on the shoulder. Castiel's gaze wavered from her hand that just touched him to promptly inspecting the room.

"Many discriminations have been performed in this den," he said. "It reeks of inequity."

"Most cheap motels do," said Thorn, chuckling under her breath. She paused. "You, um. You just going to stand there the whole night?"

"Is there somewhere else I should be?"

"Noo," said Thorn slowly. "But I'd rather you not a pull a Edward Cullen on me while I'm sleeping. Don't you have, I don't know. Angel duty to attend to?"

"After being cut off from heaven, my time has been more expandable. I have nothing to do until we leave in the morning."

Thorn looked up at him down, shrugged, then grabbed her bag again, dispersing into the bathroom. She exited a few minutes later in plaid pajama pants and thin, white tank top. Her dirty blonde hair laid in its usual disheveled mess down her back which was completely untouched by a comb. Castiel looked up as she approached, still in the same position and place she left him.

Thorn couldn't let this thought subside, but she was reminded irrevocably of some lost puppy whenever she looked at him.

"Well. Good night," she said awkwardly. Castiel walked to the armchair that was placed on the opposite side of the room as Thorn climbed under the bedsheets, flicking off the nightstand light. She couldn't help but feel a little strange that she was attempting to sleep in a room where a man—angel—was sitting a few feet away, staring off into the room.

And then, to some other degree, it made her feel strangely safe. She humored herself momentarily by imagining Cas to be some guardian angel.

Oooh, she couldn't wait to tell him her new nickname for him.

* * *

**Tell me your thoughts? :)  
**


	9. Sweets for All

**I'm sorry it's taking me so long to update this story but I simply haven't had any time! My main priority is college and all of my writing time has been spent on my other Supernatural fic. But this story will keep on rollin', don't worry.**

**Thanks so much for the support and all of the awesome reviews you guys have been posting! This is more of a funny, humor chapter, kind of like the last one.  
**

NINE: Sweets for All  


"Do you really think prolonging the journey any further is wise? Anymore unnecessary stops and the pendant could be traveling out of reach."

Thorn parked the car in an empty spot in the CVS parking lot, her eyes flashing slightly with irritation. She had been sour with Castiel ever since waking up that morning in the hotel. She looked ill in health; dark bags hung under her eyes indicated that she had a restless sleep and her hair was even more a rat's nest than usual. She breathed out a sigh through her nostrils, resting her forehead briefly on the steering wheel before glancing tiredly at Cas.

"Look, angel. I'm really not in the mood. I just need to get a few things before we hit the road again. If you help out, it could go a lot quicker." She handed him a piece of paper that had a short list of supplies, most of which Castiel could not identify.

"I don't know what any of these are," he said blankly as they exited the vehicle.

"Most of the things are labeled. If you want to go grocery shopping, you can do that instead," Thorn suggested, her puffy eyes crinkling slightly as her eyebrows furrowed.

Castiel considered. He had never gone 'grocery shopping' before, seeing as he never needed to eat, but he had clear idea what it was about. The thought of going through isle after isle trying to find the correct food particles confused him and he didn't like the idea of it. How was he supposed to differentiate all of the various colored fruits, vegetables, and boxes? Also, he didn't want Thorn yelling again if he had somehow failed the task.

He had no idea why she was acting particularly vulgar to him today and vaguely wondered if it was something he had done. Castiel in general didn't understand humans, and even if technically speaking Thorn wasn't one, she was raised in human culture and adapted to their traits. The thing that confused him most was human women.

"I'll get the things we need," said Castiel, looking at the CVS with a determined expression.

"Go for it," said Thorn with a humorless chuckle. "Here." She was about to hand him a wad of cash, but hesitated.

"Do you even know how money works?" she asked uncertainly.

"Dean once brought me to a den of women of who lacked the majority of their clothing. Many men were giving them money."

Thorn raised her eyebrows. "He . . .?" but she shook her head, as if suddenly deciding that she didn't want to know. "That's not much a of a learning experience. Maybe I should just go with you."

Castiel said nothing as Thorn continued to look him wearily up and down.

"I'm sure the cashier could help you out," she said slowly. "Look, it's not that hard. You just add up the numbers on the corner of the paper. Meet back here in about . . . ten minutes?"

Hesitantly, Castiel took the money, trying to imagine how a thin piece of green paper could control humans so easily. She clapped him reassuringly on the back before turning and walking in the opposite direction. Castiel watched her leave, then glanced back down at the paper.

She said the items were labeled. It shouldn't be too challenging to pick out the correct items, should it?

Castiel entered the brightly lit store, realizing he could simply ask for assistance by one of the humans who resided behind the counters.

"Can I help you, sir?" asked a woman who wore a red vest who noted Castiel's lost expression.

"Yes," said Castiel, looking at the first item on the list. "I'm on a quest to find . . . tampons."

The girl's lips parted, then glanced over his shoulder before meeting his eyes.

"Women's hygiene," she said slowly, pointing in the right direction.

Castiel advanced forward, entering the isle that the woman indicated. The shelves were piled high with numerous bags and boxes, all terrifyingly alien to the confused angel.

_There are so many, _Castiel thought. _She didn't say how much she needed. _

Uncertainly, he reached forward and picked up one bag, frowning down at it. What if he returned back to the car only to have Thorn shout at him more because he hadn't got enough? It couldn't hurt to get more . . .

He took two of the blue-colored bags and was about to turn away before he caught sight of something else. What if Thorn wanted the _pink_-colored ones? What was the difference between the two and was one better than the other? There were also other various colored bags, but all labeled with the same word 'tampon'.

Utterly dubious at what to do, Castiel began grabbing boxes and bags left and right until they piled high in his arms, almost blocking his vision.

"S-sir," said an ambivalent voice. It was a man who was also wearing one of the red vests. He was staring at Castiel with wide eyes, looking him up and down. "Would you—would you like a cart?"

Castiel followed the man who rolled a large red shopping cart to him, and Castiel dropped the merchandise inside. Castiel met his eyes seriously.

"Your aid is much appreciated," said Cas before taking a hold of the cart and rolling it down the isle. It took him awhile to get a hold of it, especially when it came to turning. After a couple of minutes he even found it a bit . . . fun.

He looked at the next item on the list, oblivious to the stares of other customers who were eying his cart filled with woman hygiene products. The next few items were a bit easier for Castiel simply because he was more familiar with them. Toothpaste, hair comb, soap, and other human necessities.

Castiel couldn't understand why the woman behind the counter was giving him an odd look as she ran the small scanner over the numerous boxes. Cas didn't have much trouble with the money; he simply heeded to Thorn's advice and added up the little numbers.

When done, he exited the store with hands carrying the many plastic bags. He waited at the car for a full ten minutes before Thorn made an appearance. She too was only carrying two plastic bags opposed to Castiel's five.

"Everything go peachy?" said Thorn, her eyes catching sight of how much Cas was carrying. She frowned. "I—didn't think I asked for that much."

"Never ask me to enter the store with the red bold letters again," said Castiel as Thorn unlocked the car and they both climbed in. She took hold of one of Castiel's bags and peered in. She stared at its contents for a full ten seconds before looking up at Cas.

"I wasn't sure how much you needed," said Castiel but he was cut short by Thorn who had suddenly erupted into a fit of hysterical laughter. Castiel watched, confused as the Nephilim's entire body was shaking as she leaned over the steering wheel. Cas had never heard such a laugh before; the closest resemblance he could come up with was a mule's call. She was guffawing so loud that when she threw her head back on the head rest, she was clutching her stomach.

After several long moments of the howling Thorn and baffled Castiel, she wiped away a few tears of mirth and smiled at him.

"Of all the people I thought were going to make my day better, you were the last on my list, angel," she simpered.

"When did I make a joke?" Castiel questioned, wondering what had caused this scene of hilarity.

Thorn merely shook her head, still grinning as she shifted the car's gear and they drove out of the parking lot.

"Can you get me something from the bag?" she asked after a few minutes down the road, turning on the wipers as a small sprinkle started. "The chocolate. Tell me you didn't get fifty of them, too."

"Five," said Castiel. He handed a single bar to Thorn to which she unwrapped it and took a large bite out of the dark candy.

"Want shome?" she offered with her mouth full, revealing a few slabs of chewed chocolate. Cas looked at the sweet she was offering.

"I have no need for food," he said. "I never get hungry."

She gave an enormous swallow, one that made her throat bulge slightly.

"Do you think the women who eat chocolate do it 'cause their hungry?" She urged the bar into his hand where Castiel took it tenderly. With a small glance to Thorn whose eyes were set on the road, he nibbled a corner of the candy.

He chewed slowly, then froze. For a moment, he and Thorn made eye-contact. She gave a small smile.

"Good?" she asked.

Castiel's only answer was taking a much larger bite out of the bar. The flavor was so curious; it hit the taste buds that had never been activated yet on Castiel's tongue. His eyes narrowed further as the sweet substance began to melt in his mouth. He swallowed.

"Why were so many of these left on the shelf?" he asked, taking another bite.

"Don't you dare eat all of it," Thorn warned, swiping it from his hands. Castiel swallowed the remnants of the sweet, looking for something to wipe his hands on. "You suck it," said Thorn.

He looked at her.

"Your fingers," she explained, nodding at the excess chocolate. It seemed a bizarre tactic but Castiel obliged. When done licking up the last bit of melted candy, he found that Thorn was eying him. She shook her head as if trying to shrug something off and looked back on the rainy road. "You angel types are so weird."

"And humans are a good counterpart?"

"I'm not saying that," said Thorn quickly. "You're just odd. Do you not have things like chocolate in heaven? You've got to. Any sweets at all? Ice cream? Cotton candy?"

"You are speaking of human inventions. Any number of those things can exist in a person's own personal heaven, but not for angels. Why is it important?"

"Sweets make me happy," said Thorn with a small smile. "You have a constant look that suggests your puppy just died or you're just constipated. I think I know why now. You've been missing out on sugar." She ended her sentence with another large bite of chocolate, leaving Castiel to frown at her.

"Are you telling me the key to happiness lies in these little brown bars?" asked Castiel after a short pause, picking up one of them and turning it over.

"I'd assume many overweight woman over the age of forty have tried to convince themselves that, but no. Not technically." She paused. "I can't believe I'm talking to you about this."

Castiel said nothing. He wanted to know more about chocolate and why it would make anyone happy. It certainly appealed to his taste buds, but the element of happiness was not conceived as far as he could tell. He wondered when the time came to regain her flame, whether or not Thorn would continue to possess her bizarre behavior, if she would still be the girl who made witty comments, had the pig-like laugh, and had an entire conversation with him over chocolate. As slightly irritating as it had proven, Castiel didn't like the idea of it going away.

It was almost ten minutes later of driving through the dense rainstorm before Thorn spoke to him again.

"Angel?"

He glanced at her. When she was sure she had his attention, she spoke again.

"You wouldn't happen to know—well of course it isn't likely, but uh . . ." Castiel watched as she gave a small swallow and released a sharp breath. "You wouldn't know who my real parents are . . . would you?"

Castiel looked out onto the road which was darkened by the thick curtain of gray clouds. He recognized the signs of anxiety as he watched Thorn's fingers tighten slightly over the steering wheel, or the way her lower lip was tucked under her front teeth. Shifting in his seat, he took several beats before replying.

"There would be no way of knowing that," he answered shortly. "The idea of a demon and angel mating is obviously not encouraged, so if it were to happen the two would evidently do everything in their power to remain hidden. Finding your parents would be as easy as counting every single grain of sand on earth."

Thorn breathed out in a defeated sort of way, nodding.

"I was ready for that answer," she said stiffly. Another pause. "I just don't get it. I really can't imagine an angel and demon getting it on. I mean, don't demons supposedly hate angels because they can smite their ass on the spot? How the hell had there been a relationship to start with?"

"That's why it's said only four Nephilim had been born in the past six millennium. I can't imagine either one of those births were a result off of a demon and angel's affection for one another. How I see it, both of them came to terms how powerful a child of both races would be."

"Henceforth, the Nephilim walked the earth," Thorn nodded. "Glad to know I was born to a loving family. Maybe it's good I don't know them. I hope this flame thing doesn't change me into some psycho, black-eyed, halo-twirling bitch."

"You remind me strongly of Dean," said Castiel.

Thorn choked back on a laugh, glancing at the angel with highly raised brows.

"And—why do you say that?"

"Your use of heavily-watered down insignificant sarcastic terms," replied Castiel, looking at her. She was staring at him with an extremely uncertain smile creeping along her plump lips. She gave a small chuckle, shook her head again, and once more returned her eyes on the road.

"Well at least I don't talk to everyone in a voice that says I'm the crypt keeper," she snapped, still with a small smirk. "Or in the least, the narrator of a Stephen King movie. Have you ever smiled before? Do you even know how to work your mouth muscles?" Pause. "Don't answer that."

"I'm perfectly content at the moment," said Castiel with a hint of thoughtfulness.

"So that's you happy? Huh. Remind me not to piss you off."

"Are you intending to?" he questioned.

He watched as the smirk coiled upward in a lopsided grin. For a few seconds she studied the sodden road before glancing sideways at Castiel.

"I'm a curious Nephilim, angel."

* * *

**I hope you've enjoyed this very-much delayed chapter. I know, it's a short filler chapter but writing the dialogue between Cas and Thorn is one of the most entertaining things. Next chapter things will get picked up and get more into the plot. **

******I was just thinking of how amusing it would be if Castiel was forced into the situation of dealing with 'girl problems.' Henceforth, I had way too much fun writing this. **

******So, don't be afraid of leaving a little review telling me what you think, and don't fret about being honest. I want to know how I'm doing! Thanks heaps! Reviews are what keep me goin'!**


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